Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS: Span Of Solace
by Skitty-Kat
Summary: Agent of MESS series. Legolas Greenleaf returns to Rivendell for a rest, but instead finds tense gambling, notorious women and ... attempted murder?
1. The Last Homely House

**Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
The Span of Solace  
**  
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**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction, therefore it never actually happened. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
**Author's Notes:** Well, here we go. Another story in the set. I have decided that I can now call it a series and make it sound all important. The 'Agent of MESS' series includes: 'Ringfinger', 'Kill Me Tomorrow', and 'You Only Live Forever'. If anyone wondered where the "weak nerves will be shredded by it" in the trailer came from, it's on the back of one of my copies of 'From Russia With Love'. I just couldn't resist.  
  
**To any new readers:** MESS stands for the Middle Earth Secret Service. Legolas Greenleaf is a James Bond style secret agent, still set in the well- known world of Middle-earth. Reviews are always appreciated; the mind needs sustenance as much as the body. As in the Fleming novels, the hero is known by his last name (in this case Greenleaf).  
  
Review replies for the last chapter of 'You Only Live Forever' are at the bottom.  
  
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**Chapter 1. The Last Homely House**  
  
It was mid-afternoon when Legolas Greenleaf and his friend Gimli the Dwarf arrived in Rivendell, the last Homely House. It was a place renowned for its hospitality to all the races of Middle-earth, no matter who they were (as long as they wiped their feet, of course). Its foods were well spoken of, its wines even more so, and its gambling halls frequented by many. The last time Greenleaf had visited Rivendell he had been following the wizard Saruman, who had been in pursuit of a ring in the possession of a hobbit. The ring had been part of the crime boss Sauron's plans, which had been, naturally, to take over Middle-earth. But Sauron was now dead –Greenleaf had seen to that- and the whole business was behind them now.  
  
Since destroying Sauron and his regime –not to mention his volcano stronghold- Greenleaf and Gimli had made their way back from Mordor, taking their time and visiting several places along the way. They were both on Shadowfax's back as they rode into the courtyard. The time they had spent travelling had done wonders for making Gimli easier on the horse.  
  
"Well, Gimli," said Greenleaf cheerfully, "what do you think of the place they call the second-most beautiful Elf home in Middle-earth?"  
  
"It's all right," replied Gimli, feigning indifference, "got some nice stonework. If this is the second-most beautiful, where's the first?"  
  
"Lothlórien, of course," answered Greenleaf, "but I didn't say that this is the second-most beautiful, only that they call it that."  
  
"That could be a dangerous opinion while you are here," said Gimli. "So where, in your opinion, is the second-most beautiful Elf home in Middle- earth?"  
  
Greenleaf grinned as he dismounted. "Mirkwood, of course." He gave Gimli a hand in getting down. "Though, obviously, I'm biased."  
  
"You Wood-elves and your dratted trees," muttered Gimli, but he was prevented from continuing further in that vein by the arrival of two others into the courtyard where they stood.  
  
"Legolas Greenleaf, is that you?" one of them asked, hands on his hips.  
  
"You old reprobate," the other added, looking delighted all the same.  
  
Greenleaf turned around, a broad smile on his face and his arms outstretched. "Elladan? Elrohir? You horrible pair, I didn't know you'd be here. I wouldn't have come if I'd known!"  
  
"We do live here, you know," said one of the identical dark-haired Elves pointedly, "and you haven't been in touch recently, have you?"  
  
"Since you blew up Orodruin, I believe," the other put in, "if U's rather vociferous complaints are accurate. Though I have to say, they usually are. Even the more alarming ones."  
  
Elladan and Elrohir, the twin sons of Lord Elrond, came forward and greeted Greenleaf in the customary Elvish fashion, gripping his shoulders firmly. They were old friends, and their trust in each other was implicit.  
  
"I haven't seen you two for rather a long time either," said Greenleaf, returning the gesture in kind.  
  
"About eighty years, I think," commented Elrohir, "since that business with all those Dwarves and that hobbit. Oh, is this your Dwarf friend?" He smiled brightly at Gimli. "Very pleased to meet you."  
  
"Did you two enjoy your –oh, how did G put it?" Elladan paused for a moment. "Oh yes, 'passionate leave'?"  
  
"Compassionate leave, Elladan," his brother corrected him.  
  
"That's what I meant." An odd look passed between the twins, one that Greenleaf couldn't, to his annoyance, read. Both were smirking slightly.  
  
"Aragorn's around somewhere," said Elrohir, changing the subject, "I expect you'll be glad to know that he's much better."  
  
"That's good." The last time Greenleaf had seen the man, Aragorn had been unconscious, held together with bandages. It lifted the worry from the Elf –though he realised with sudden guilt that Aragorn hadn't particularly been on his mind lately- to know that he was all right and obviously well enough to travel.  
  
"Though if you want to see him," added Elladan, "you'll have to pry him away from our dear sister. He and Arwen have been quite inseparable since they arrived here, and no doubt before that. Rather surprising, really."  
  
"Oh, not really," said Greenleaf, smiling smugly. "Is he around here anywhere?"  
  
"Probably in the garden," answered Elrohir, "though you'll have to make some noise as you go, unless you wish to see a truly sickening sight."  
  
"Arwen insists that Aragorn gets a walk on the garden everyday," said Elladan, "it's 'for his health'." He minced around mockingly, adopting a high-pitched voice. "He can't get ill again!"  
  
"Why, Elladan," said Greenleaf, "you make such a charming lady. Do you not agree, Gimli?"  
  
Gimli didn't say anything, though he chuckled a little.  
  
"I'm sure you would be just as convincing," retorted Elladan, pouting a little.  
  
"Probably depends on who's there to see," commented Elrohir, grinning.  
  
Greenleaf frowned, eyeing them both. "What do you..." he began.  
  
"Anyway," interrupted Elrohir, "you should go and find Aragorn. He'll be glad to see you."  
  
"And father simply demanded that he gets to check you over the instant you arrive," said Elladan, "the comment he used was that he 'knows what you're like'. Can't think what he means."  
  
"No idea," said Greenleaf, while knowing exactly the reason. "Come on, Gimli, let's find Aragorn. We'll see you two later, I suppose. It's probably quite hard to avoid round here."  
  
"Still the comedian then," said Elrohir.  
  
"Without the appreciative audience," added Elladan, "though you will keep trying.  
  
Greenleaf gave them both a mock slap round the head. "And you two are ever my critics," he said. "Now go and find someone else to annoy."  
  
"Well, if that's the way you feel," said Elladan, sticking his nose in the air, "then we'll take our sparkling conversation elsewhere. Let's go, Elrohir."  
  
He took his brother's arm and they stalked off, pretending to be completely disgusted. Greenleaf watched them go with a grin then began to walk towards the gardens.  
  
"What an interesting pair," said Gimli, walking beside him.  
  
"That's a good word for them," said Greenleaf, "but don't be fooled. They're deadly when needed."  
  
"Are they part of this," Gimli looked around furtively, "Service?"  
  
"Yes," replied Greenleaf, "and damn good at it too. They're part of the Rivendell branch, headed by Lord Elrond, who's also their father."  
  
"Quite the family affair," commented Gimli.  
  
"Well," said Greenleaf with a grin, "Lord Elrond is actually G's son-in- law, and Arwen is, as you may have guessed, his daughter. Even Aragorn is distantly related."  
  
"And he and Arwen are..."  
  
"Very distantly related," emphasised Greenleaf, "very. Hardly related at all. Not to mention the age difference."  
  
"The age difference?" asked Gimli.  
  
"I told you not to mention that," said Greenleaf, "but as you have, I'll just say that it's pretty huge."  
  
Gimli laughed, and then looked thoughtful. "If it's such a family business, how come you're involved?" he asked. "I mean, you're not from either of these places."  
  
"I enjoy it," replied Greenleaf, a little evasively, "and partly, I have to admit, because my father hates me doing it."  
  
"I'd have thought he'd be proud."  
  
"Not that he tells me. I don't think he approves of my mixing with all these Noldor, let alone not staying in Mirkwood and being the dutiful son. But it doesn't matter."  
  
"Really?" asked Gimli.  
  
"Yes, really," snapped Greenleaf. There was a brief silence. "Honestly," he continued, "it doesn't matter. But here, we've reached the gardens."  
  
"And that looks like a familiar pair over there," said Gimli, pointing ahead.  
  
"Indeed it is," said Greenleaf, and a smile spread over his face. "We'll have to follow Elrohir's advice, I think."  
  
"The advice about making some noise?" asked Gimli.  
  
"That's the one. Know any good songs?" Greenleaf pulled a face. "Preferably not one about gold."  
  
"Hmm." Gimli paused, then smiled. "Heigh ho, heigh ho," he began, "it's on our way we go..."  
  
"With forty whacks from a big sharp axe," Greenleaf joined in, having heard the song many times by now, "heigh ho, heigh ho..."  
  
Their singing had the desired effect. Aragorn and Arwen sprang apart, surprised by their unexpected visitors.  
  
"Legolas!" exclaimed Aragorn. "I'm so glad to see you!" He threw his arms around the Elf.  
  
Greenleaf was surprised, but hugged him back anyway. "I'm glad to see you back on your feet," he said.  
  
"We were so worried about you," said Arwen, after Aragorn had let Greenleaf go. "We knew you were alive, but you didn't get in touch." Her tone carried a faint rebuke.  
  
Greenleaf laughed. "We were having too much fun," he said.  
  
Arwen raised an eyebrow. "So we heard."  
  
"Now, dear," Aragorn shushed her. "Congratulations on defeating Sauron, both of you."  
  
Greenleaf looked at Gimli, and they both grinned.  
  
"It was nothing," said Greenleaf.  
  
"Well, almost nothing," said Gimli, "obviously, we could do it all again easily."  
  
"Oh, obviously," said Aragorn, smiling, "I wouldn't dream of suggesting otherwise."  
  
"I hate to break up the reunion," said Arwen, "but father insisted that you be sent to see him the moment you arrive."  
  
"Yes, your brothers already said."  
  
"Then why," asked Arwen, "are you still here?"  
  
Greenleaf took her hand. "I had to see you first, 'Star, of course," he said, kissing it gallantly.  
  
"Flatterer," she muttered, though she seemed pleased. "But off you go."  
  
"We'll go with Gimli and find you some rooms," said Aragorn. "Lord Elrond's in his study."  
  
"I have to go alone?" asked Greenleaf, eyes widening comically.  
  
"He specified you," replied Aragorn. He patted Greenleaf's shoulder. "It was nice knowing you."  
  
"Thanks for the support," said Greenleaf dryly. "I'll see you later."  
  
"If you survive," said Aragorn, grinning all over his face.  
  
Greenleaf pulled a face at him and went off to find Lord Elrond. He had known that this would have to happen, of course. It was part of being in the Service; you were meant to be answerable at all times. And he knew that there would have to be some reprisal, being as he had been out of contact for two months. But, damn it, he'd been in the Service long enough to deserve some leave. It wasn't as if he had just taken off when they needed him. He had just, along with Gimli, defeated Sauron for crying out loud! If there was anytime that he deserved leave then it was after a job like that. What was the worst they could do anyway? Fire him? They wouldn't dare.  
  
The door of Lord Elrond's study was closed. Greenleaf studied the wood for a moment, took a few deep breaths then raised his hand and knocked on it.  
  
"Enter," came the voice from within.  
  
Greenleaf pushed the door open and stepped inside, shutting it behind him. Elrond was sitting behind his desk, a pen in his hand.  
  
"Legolas Greenleaf," he said slowly, "what a pleasant surprise. We were all wondering when you'd turn up."  
  
Greenleaf smiled but said nothing. He felt more than a little nervous.  
  
Elrond put down his pen. "Well, you succeeded in your mission, so I believe some congratulations are in order."  
  
"It was Gimli as well," said Greenleaf, grateful for the topic.  
  
"Of course," said Elrond, "though we were concerned for you when you didn't get in touch."  
  
Oh, here we go, Greenleaf thought. His hands, held behind his back, clenched involuntarily.  
  
"You could at least have got the palantír out once," Elrond continued, his tone a little lecturing, "U tried to get in touch, but the stone was still in the bag."  
  
"Didn't think of it," muttered Greenleaf, trying to be vaguely apologetic.  
  
"I'm sure," said Elrond. "I hope you're aware that we could have wasted time and effort searching for you."  
  
"But you didn't," Greenleaf pointed out, perfectly politely.  
  
"No, but we easily could have done." Elrond's expression was severe, mouth tight and eyebrows drawn downwards.  
  
"You know you don't need to."  
  
"Hmm." Milk would have soured fast enough to break the sound barrier under the Elf Lord's gaze. "Luckily for you, her Ladyship has decided to be more lenient than I would be. She received the plans that you sent and has decided the time you have taken off as leave."  
  
Inwardly, Greenleaf sighed in relief. Outwardly, he was calm. Thank goodness for G, he thought. Though he was sure there would be some form of tongue-wagging when he returned to Lothlórien as well.  
  
"Still," Elrond went on, "I'm sure you sustained some form of injury. You usually do. I can see the one on your cheek from here."  
  
"Yes," admitted Greenleaf, "but they're mostly all healed now."  
  
"Let me see them," ordered Elrond, standing from his chair.  
  
Grumbling, Greenleaf obliged, removing his tunic. He stood, bare-chested, as Elrond walked around him in examination. Pale, still healing cuts marked the Elf's upper body and arms, along with other scars. Dark, shiny patches indicated burns. One peculiarly shaped cut caught Elrond's attention and he ran a finger along it. Greenleaf tensed.  
  
"A curious scar," commented Elrond, "shaped like a hand. How did you come by it?"  
  
"Saruman," replied Greenleaf. "That wizard has an odd sense of humour."  
  
"Saruman? But I though he was..."  
  
"Dead," Greenleaf finished. "Yes, I was sure he was too, but he wasn't. Should be by now though."  
  
"When were you planning to tell me?" asked Elrond.  
  
"It's all in the report I've written," said Greenleaf, "which I will, of course, allow you to read before taking it on to Lórien. Basically, Saruman escaped Isengard and turned up in Mordor."  
  
"Oh dear," said Elrond, "as long as he's dead now, I suppose." He went to sit behind his desk again. "Do get dressed. Now, there is another matter."  
  
"There is?" asked Greenleaf, surprised.  
  
"Yes," answered Elrond slowly, steepling his hands before him. He seemed fairly embarrassed. "Well, the thing is, there's the matter of..." His voice died away.  
  
"Of what?" asked Greenleaf, watching Elrond curiously.  
  
The Elf Lord took a deep breath and said what he had to in one quick burst. "It's the matter of the Dwarf."  
  
"Gimli?" He's a very good friend." Greenleaf wondered what Elrond wanted. Surely it couldn't be that Elrond was, for want of a better word, Dwarfist. "What of him?"  
  
"How are you, uh, getting on with him?" There was no denying it, Elrond was nervous of asking the question.  
  
"Fine," answered Greenleaf, "he's quite charming for a Dwarf really."  
  
"Charming? Oh good, good." Elrond gave a little cough.  
  
"Why do you ask?" questioned Greenleaf, now very interested to know what Elrond was so embarrassed about. He was also amused by the idea of making the Elf Lord squirm.  
  
"Nothing, nothing," said Elrond, "just, um, making sure." He picked up his pen and fiddled with it. "Anyway, I'll see you at dinner, yes?" It was a clear dismissal.  
  
"Of course," said Greenleaf, opening the door. He shut it again behind him and walked up the corridor. That had gone rather better than he had feared. Not much more than a slap on the wrist really. But there was also the question of what Elrond had wanted to say at the end. The Elf Lord had seemed apprehensive of the subject. He couldn't just have been worried about Greenleaf's friendship with Gimli, could he? After all, even Greenleaf had got over Gimli's Dwarvishness eventually. And as far as he knew, Elrond quite liked Dwarves.  
  
Aragorn came down the corridor from the other direction. When he saw Greenleaf, he flung out his arms and put on an expression of mock surprise.  
  
"You're alive!" he exclaimed overdramatically.  
  
"By the skin of my teeth," said Greenleaf, playing along, "he nearly had me but I just managed to wriggle out in time. Couldn't have been done by a lesser being, I assure you."  
  
They both looked at each other for a moment, and then laughed.  
  
"Seriously though," said Aragorn eventually. "How did it go?"  
  
Greenleaf shrugged. "Not too bad. I think I have G to thank for still being alive. And Lord Elrond was being most," he paused, "odd at the end."  
  
"Odd?" questioned Aragorn.  
  
"Yes," replied Greenleaf, "asking about Gimli and then, I think, not quite asking what he really wanted to." He sighed. "I mean, I thought he quite liked Dwarves, or at least doesn't mind them."  
  
"He likes them," said Aragorn, looking away, "but he wouldn't go to bed with one."  
  
"Nor would I," declared Greenleaf.  
  
The man said nothing, fidgeting with his fingers.  
  
"Aragorn?" Greenleaf stared at him, eyes narrowed. "Aragorn, what is on your mind?"  
  
"Nothing, nothing," said Aragorn, "nothing at all, I promise you."  
  
Greenleaf took a quick look around. The corridor was empty. With speed he grabbed Aragorn's shoulders and pinned him against the wall. He pushed his face right up against the man's.  
  
"What is it?" he asked. When there was no response, he continued. "Do you want to know what I will do to you if you don't tell me?"  
  
Still nothing. Greenleaf cast around for a suitable threat.  
  
"I'll get Elladan and Elrohir to help me," he promised. It seemed a horrific enough idea. Aragorn's horrified face proved that it was.  
  
"Well, it's about you," said Aragorn reluctantly, "and the Dw- Gimli."  
  
"Go on," said Greenleaf, raising and eyebrow, "I had deduced that much."  
  
"And I thou- that is to say, we thought that you two were, well, you know..."  
  
"What?" prompted Greenleaf.  
  
"Well, lovers," said Aragorn in a whisper, embarrassed to say it.  
  
Greenleaf stared at him incredulously, unsure whether to be furious or laugh. "How so?" he asked disbelieving.  
  
"Well, you know," began Aragorn.  
  
"No, I don't," Greenleaf cut him off, "tell me."  
  
"When U tried to contact you after Orodruin went up," explained Aragorn nervously, "you'd left the palantír in the bag, but we could hear, um, sounds."  
  
"What sounds?" asked Greenleaf, still gripping the man's shoulders.  
  
"Uh, screams and moans generally." Aragorn tried to look away from the Elf's face but at that distance it was impossible. "And the occasional cry of 'oh, Gimli!'"  
  
Greenleaf stared at him, thinking furiously. When the answer finally came to him, he released Aragorn in order to laugh.  
  
"Oh, Valar," he gasped, almost bent double.  
  
"It wasn't that funny!" said Aragorn. "I didn't know where to look! And I had to explain it to Arwen afterwards."  
  
"Explain what? Oh Aragorn, you are a priceless fool, you all are! Gimli was putting my shoulder back in its socket after it was dislocated. We weren't –oh, as if I would! The mere thought of it!"  
  
"So you're not...?" Aragorn leaned against the wall. "Oh dear."  
  
Greenleaf stopped laughing as something suddenly occurred to him. "That's what the twins were on about earlier. Aragorn...?  
  
Aragorn saw the question coming. "You know how word gets around," he said carefully.  
  
"Splendid. So now half of Rivendell thinks I'm carrying on with a Dwarf."  
  
"Half's such a relative term." Aragorn saw Greenleaf's face darken and decided to change the subject a little. "No wonder Gimli was confused when the twins offered you two a double room."  
  
"They did what?"  
  
"It's all right," Aragorn placated him, "in the end they settled on adjoining rooms with a door between them." He smiled brightly.  
  
"Aragorn," said Greenleaf, putting his arm around the man's shoulders in a gesture that was a bit less than friendly, "you are going to explain, clearly and precisely, to those two exactly how they are wrong."  
  
Aragorn found it safest to agree.  
  
"And there will be nothing, I repeat, nothing that they can misconstrue. Do you get me?"  
  
"Clear as anything," said Aragorn, praying to the Valar for strength.  
  
"And then," continued Greenleaf, smiling unkindly, "you will make sure that everyone else in Rivendell understands. Understood?"  
  
"Absolutely." Aragorn nodded, while his heart sank.  
  
"And," Greenleaf went on, "you can get on the palantír to U and explain it to him, right?"  
  
"As rain," agreed Aragorn, whose heart now felt as if it was in his boots.  
  
"And finally," concluded Greenleaf (while Aragorn's heart went through the floor), "you can find me some wine. I'm dying for a drink."  
  
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Dinner was an interesting affair. The twins had been informed of the mistake, but that didn't stop them giving Greenleaf and Gimli suggestive looks. Lord Elrond seemed intensely relieved and was being particularly courteous to Gimli. Greenleaf had explained everything to the Dwarf, and once he had got over the shock they had laughed themselves stupid. Greenleaf was quite glad of Gimli's sense of humour, which eased the situation somewhat. They sat side by side now at the table.  
  
Aragorn sat on the other side of the Elf, still rather nervous. Many of the occupants of Rivendell still believed Greenleaf and Gimli to be more than friends, and there were rather a few heads turning and whispers going on. Even some of the guests seemed to have heard the rumour, to Greenleaf's chagrin.  
  
"That's a nice scar you've got on your cheek, Legolas," said Elrohir, distracting Greenleaf from the mutters. "New, isn't it?"  
  
"It's fading," said Greenleaf, more to reassure himself. He knew it would be there for a long time. "But you're right. Saruman decided on some cosmetic improvement." He tossed his head mockingly. "He must have been jealous."  
  
Normally such a comment about his looks would have earned Greenleaf scathing comments, but this time it didn't. Elladan, Elrohir and Aragorn were all staring at him open-mouthed.  
  
"Saruman?" Elladan managed to ask eventually.  
  
"But we left him under the water in Isengard," protested Aragorn, "you said you'd cut his throat."  
  
"I did," said Greenleaf, a little defensively, "but he survived. It did wonders for making him angry though, as I found out so charmingly in Mordor."  
  
"Well, I hope he's dead now," commented Elladan, once he'd got over the surprise.  
  
"I can't see how he would have survived," said Gimli gruffly, "should have been blown to smithereens."  
  
"Or smothered in boiling lava," said Greenleaf, smiling.  
  
"You seem remarkably pleased about that," said Elrohir.  
  
"Almost sadistically so," added Elladan.  
  
"I have reason to be," said Greenleaf. "Anyway," he continued, changing the subject and looking down the table, "do we have any interesting guests?"  
  
"Not really," answered Elrohir, "just the usual gamblers mostly."  
  
"That's something that puzzles me," said Gimli. He was growing more comfortable with the presence of so many Elves.  
  
"What's that?" asked Elrohir.  
  
"Well, the gambling halls," said Gimli, "it's just not quite in the image of Elven halls. Sounds a bit seedy for them."  
  
"Seedy?" asked Elladan in mock indignation.  
  
"I know what you mean," put in Greenleaf, cuffing Elladan playfully on the head, "they sound as if they'd be out of place."  
  
Aragorn took it upon himself to explain. Greenleaf was too busy ducking a retaliatory blow from Elladan, and Elrohir was too busy laughing at them.  
  
"Lord Elrond keeps a close eye on the gambling," said Aragorn, "rather helped by having second sight, I think. But it's all kept regulated. It's the idea that if you ban it then it'll only go underground. It's better if it's in sight. Besides, you can find out a lot from the gamblers."  
  
"I caught the trail of Saruman and the ring here," said Greenleaf.  
  
"Legolas, please," interrupted Elrond from the head of the table, "don't talk business at the dinner table. And certainly not with your mouth full."  
  
Greenleaf put on a chastened expression while the twins and Aragorn laughed.  
  
Gimli grinned. "Real family atmosphere in this line of work," he commented.  
  
Greenleaf smirked. It was good to be back among friends and he was determined to enjoy it as long as possible. Eventually he would have to go back to Lothlórien and get back to work, but he figured on at least two more weeks of holiday before that.  
  
As it was, he had two days of quiet before things started to happen.  
  
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**Review replies:** theinklesspen: well, I didn't do many hints for the Nazgûl. They are rather fun though. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!  
  
immortalwizardpirateelf-fan: wow, a new reader! Yay! Glad you've enjoyed them. Your name is very interesting, by the way. Unsurprisingly, my spell check hates it. Gah, computers, eh?  
  
Nemo Returning: what makes you think Saruman's coming back. He was about to be blown to bits, wasn't he?  
  
Idlewild: yeah, I can't stand the other Bond stuff. Raymond Benson's not bad, but whatsisface, the one who wrote Goldeneye was rubbish. I'm glad I got the action to work, I've never been too sure on that. 


	2. Strange Bedfellows

**Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
The Span of Solace  
**  
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**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction, therefore it never actually happened. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
**Author's Notes:** I made up the big white bridge. As far as I know there isn't one in Rivendell. But I figured that if whatsisname can make one up in Harry Potter 3 then I can in this.  
  
**Review reply:** (only one. Where are you all?) Idlewild: more of the gambling halls in chapter three, that I promise. Who don't you believe is dead? Surely our favourite wizard couldn't have survived... And I'd have updated sooner, or maybe not, if I hadn't been in Blackpool all weekend. Ah, the joys of tackiness.  
  
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**Chapter 2. Strange Bedfellows**  
  
Greenleaf had spent the day with Gimli, for the most part sitting in the garden. They talked of many things and watched people who went past. The guests of Rivendell were and interesting and varied bunch, and the pair found it great fun to make up stories about them and why they might be there. It may have been childish, but it was rather enjoyable.  
  
It was now evening, and Greenleaf was having an after-dinner drink (or few) with Gimli, Aragorn and the twins. They were on one of the balconies, out in the moonlight. Greenleaf sat on the balcony rail, wineglass in his hand. His legs were crossed and he glanced out over the garden. It was empty. He turned back to his companions.  
  
"So," he said, "is there anyone interesting staying? You didn't give me a proper answer before."  
  
"By interesting," said Aragorn, "I presume you mean criminal."  
  
Greenleaf smiled. "Of course."  
  
"There're one or two card sharks from Minas Tirith," replied Elrohir, "but they're not being too ambitious. Father's keeping an eye on them."  
  
"And there's a couple of notorious women," added Elladan, grinning.  
  
Greenleaf raised an eyebrow. "Notorious in what way?" he asked.  
  
"Various," said Elladan. "There's Lady Compton, for starters. That man she has in tow is either her fifth or sixth husband; I'm not sure which. She likes to use their money and move on."  
  
"Move on how?" asked Gimli.  
  
Elladan pulled a mysterious face. "No one's ever sure," he said, "but more than a few have ended up dead."  
  
"And there's Elliane of Brising," said Elrohir, "she's notorious for the usual reasons."  
  
"Very popular with the men," said Elladan suggestively.  
  
"She wouldn't leave me alone the other day," said Aragorn, "followed me around everywhere then looked coy when I told her to go away."  
  
"What happened?" asked Greenleaf.  
  
"Arwen took her off and had words," answered Aragorn.  
  
"Oh, the poor woman," said Elladan, "surely she didn't deserve that. Arwen's got quite a tongue on her when roused."  
  
"Who's the other woman around?" questioned Greenleaf.  
  
"The red-haired one with the less favoured features?" queried Elrohir. "I don't actually know."  
  
"I heard that she was from somewhere off East," said Aragorn, "but other than that, no idea."  
  
"Wouldn't really want to know," remarked Elladan, "she's pretty ugly."  
  
"Elladan!" his brother exclaimed. "You should be more polite."  
  
"I think he's had a bit too much wine," said Greenleaf, sipping his own, "he's got no head for it."  
  
"I can't help it if I wasn't brought up on it like you Mirkwood alcoholics," muttered Elladan, "we don't go in for heavy drinking round here."  
  
"We don't in Mirkwood!"  
  
"That's not what my father said," put in Gimli. All three Elves and Aragorn looked at him. "He said that they escaped sue to certain Elves being dead drunk."  
  
Aragorn, Elladan and Elrohir all burst out laughing. Greenleaf stuck out his bottom lip.  
  
"You're meant to be on my side," he told the Dwarf.  
  
"But it's true!" protested Gimli.  
  
"Betrayed by a Dwarf! Oh, what a tragedy!" declared Greenleaf, laying a hand across his brow.  
  
"A travesty, more like," commented Elladan, smirking.  
  
"Ah, sod the lot of you." Greenleaf slid down to stand on the floor. He drained his wineglass and placed it on the table. "I'm going to bed.  
  
"Night then," said Elrohir.  
  
"So, Gimli," said Elladan, turning to the Dwarf, "what else did your father see in Mirkwood?"  
  
Greenleaf ignored them and left the room. He went down the corridor quietly. It was late, and most of Rivendell's inhabitants were in bed. Greenleaf needed no light to get to his room, and once he was inside there was enough moonlight coming through to see by. It didn't take him long to undress, wash and put on his nightshirt. He got into his bed, pulling the sheets up and lying back to sleep. His eyes remained open as he wandered the paths of Elvish dreams.  
  
But the dreams soon became a nightmare. Greenleaf was back in Mordor, helpless and unable to move. Sauron was looming over him, fire burning beneath his helmet. Then Sauron's head morphed into Saruman's leering countenance.  
  
"Such a pleasure, Prince Greenleaf," he hissed. His voice didn't come from his mouth, but from the bleeding wound across his neck.  
  
He clutched a knife in his hand, Greenleaf's knife. It was crimson with blood. The liquid actually seemed to be pouring from the knife, flooding over Greenleaf, across his body and into his mouth, choking him.  
  
"Everyone you've killed, Prince Greenleaf, "taunted Saruman, "such a lot of blood you've spilt. All those deaths." He chuckled wetly.  
  
Greenleaf tried to respond, but could only gurgle. Another figure came to stand behind Saruman. It was Gríma, dripping wet and covered in large bite marks. He stared balefully at Greenleaf with just a hint of a malicious smile. Then the blood, still flowing from the knife, rose over his eyes and filled his vision with red. He could feel Saruman's hands on him, corpse- cold and grasping.  
  
"Say goodbye to it, Prince Greenleaf," said the wizard, clawing at the Elf's blood-soaked skin. "Say goodbye..."  
  
Greenleaf sat bolt upright in his bed. He was sweating and gasping for breath. He gazed around at the familiar surroundings of his room, reassuring himself of where he was. Valar, what a nightmare! He fell back against the pillows. That had been horrible. He was sure he could still feel Saruman's hand on his thigh.  
  
Then what he could feel moved, and he knew there was definitely something there. He froze. It moved again. Looking down carefully, he saw a lump under the sheets. It travelled slowly up his leg and onto his hip, where it paused for a moment. Greenleaf could feel its every twitch clearly. It was about the size of the palm of his hand and felt as if it had too many legs. It was hairy too, with wiry bristles that scraped Greenleaf's skin.  
  
Greenleaf momentarily stopped breathing as it suddenly moved across his stomach. It took an agonisingly long time, during which he had to breathe again as shallowly as he could. Then it came out from under the sheets onto his chest. It was a spider –small by Mirkwood standards- with red markings on its back. Greenleaf would have bet on it being poisonous. It crawled up across his ribs determinedly. He tried to make his breathing as imperceptible as possible so as not to antagonise the creature. It was difficult.  
  
It crawled further upwards, out of his line of sight. He didn't dare move. Over his collarbone it went, having passed the fluttering heart, and began pulling itself up his pale throat. Greenleaf's breath caught. This spider, which could probably kill him with a single bite, was making its way along the vulnerable skin of his neck, across the pumping veins and shivering skin. The Elf could feel himself beginning to tremble and he fought to still it. He closed his mouth and eyes as the creature crept under the lobe of his right ear and onto his face. It followed, maybe purposefully maybe not, the trail of the scar up his cheek. He felt it walk across his closed right eye, its bristly body brushing his eyelashes. It stopped again just above his eyebrow, and Greenleaf held his breath, trying desperately not to move. He could feel himself sweating.  
  
It moved on up to his hairline, pausing only slightly before walking into the blond mass. Greenleaf allowed himself to breathe again, while keeping his head perfectly still. If it had been anyone else he might have laughed at them –to be frightened of a spider in his hair! But he had grown up in Mirkwood, where to be dismissive of the danger of spiders was to risk death. And although he didn't recognise this type of spider, it definitely looked dangerous. He could feel the slight tugs on his hair as it worked across it, and then he felt nothing. Either it had left his hair or it was on the ends of it. Greenleaf gave it a couple of moments then took a chance.  
  
He pushed himself up from the bed, spinning fast enough for his hair to fly out before settling around his shoulders. The spider sat on his pillow, stunned into sudden stillness by his move. Motivated by panicked disgust –which he would never admit to afterwards- Greenleaf grabbed the pillow and flung it onto the floor, sending the spider with you. Before the creature could scuttle anywhere Greenleaf leapt to the floor, seized up a shoe and brought it down hard on the spider. It was knocked onto its back and he slammed it again and again until it didn't move anymore.  
  
Fear still pumped through his veins and his breath was fast and erratic as he stared at the arachnid. Warily, he poked it with the end of the shoe. It was dead, thankfully. He pushed his hair back. Then something occurred to him and he glanced around the room. There were too many dark corners and shadows to be sure he was alone. He eyed the bed, wondering what else could be lurking in the sheets. Making a decision, he hurried out of the room.  
  
He reached Aragorn's room, which was next door to his, and knocked on the door. It was opened a few moments by a bleary-eyed Aragorn holding a candle.  
  
"Oh," said the man, "I thought you were Arwen."  
  
"Too much information," muttered Greenleaf.  
  
Aragorn blinked, taking in the sight of the Elf before him. Greenleaf was pale and his hair hung around his face. He looked dishevelled. "What's up?" asked Aragorn.  
  
"Do you know anything about foreign spiders?" questioned Greenleaf.  
  
"A bit," replied Aragorn, looking confused.  
  
"Come with me," said Greenleaf, grabbing Aragorn's arm. He pulled him along the corridor and into his room. "What do you think of that one?" he asked, pointing at the corpse on the floor.  
  
Aragorn crouched down and examined it. "Looks like one of the Harad ones," he said eventually, "highly poisonous. Where did you find it?"  
  
"In my bed."  
  
"Ouch." Aragorn winced in sympathy. "Did it bite you?"  
  
"No," replied Greenleaf, shaking his head.  
  
"Didn't think so," said Aragorn lightly, "you'd have already been dead."  
  
Greenleaf couldn't help but shudder. "Thank you for that," he said sardonically.  
  
"My pleasure. I wonder how it got in." Aragorn stared at it, noticing the shoe beside it.  
  
"I don't know. I suppose we can have a better look in the morning." Greenleaf turned his gaze to Aragorn. "Uh, could I sleep on the chair in your room tonight? I don't fancy staying in here."  
  
"Of course," answered Aragorn, "I couldn't leave you in here with that, could I? It might come alive again or something. Or maybe its ghost will come and haunt you."  
  
Greenleaf glared at him. "Very funny," he said acidly.  
  
He followed Aragorn back along the corridor and into the man's room. It was much the same as his own, and Greenleaf found himself scrutinising the corners. Giving a mental headshake, he settled himself into the armchair by the fireplace, curling his legs under him.  
  
"Here," said Aragorn, going over to his wardrobe, "have a blanket." He pulled one out and threw it over.  
  
Greenleaf took it gratefully and tucked it round himself. "Thank you," he said.  
  
"It's all right," said Aragorn. He got into his bed, pulled his sheets over him and blew out the candle. "Goodnight."  
  
"Goodnight," echoed Greenleaf, lying his head back.  
  
Soon he could hear the man's gentle snores filling the room. He sighed. It wouldn't be easy for him to sleep again that night. The incident with the spider had shaken him more than he would admit to anyone, and he kept twitching, imagining the feel of its legs across his skin. He pulled the blanket closer round, feeling inexplicably chilly.  
  
The nightmare wasn't really concerning him at all. He had got used to them in the time he had worked for the Service. Obviously it had been disturbing, but it was just a nightmare, and it couldn't hurt him. The people he had seen in it were dead, and dead men –or wizards or whatever- don't hurt. Greenleaf knew he had killed a lot of people in his time, but only if they'd deserved it. It was part of his job to do so, and to change his ways now would be unthinkable to say the least. Everyone and everything he'd killed had died for a reason. G wouldn't send him after anyone innocent, of that he was sure. Therefore he wouldn't let that nightmare, or any others, bother him. He shifted in the chair a little.  
  
The matter of the spider was different. Surely it wasn't there by chance, not if it was native of Harad. Rivendell was a long way north of Harad, and there were no known spider migratory routes between the two places. But if it had been brought, why? And how did it get into his room? Greenleaf turned up tightly. He resolved to think about in the morning when he could discuss it with others. He drifted slowly off to sleep, where his dreams were full of spiders, ranging from Shelob-sized monsters to tiny ones with dripping fangs that crawled all over him.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
He woke later than he usually did. Aragorn was already up and half-dressed, digging through his drawers to find a shirt. He looked over as he noticed that Greenleaf was awake.  
  
"Good morning," he said, "I didn't want to wake you. I thought you'd be tired. You didn't seem to be sleeping that peacefully."  
  
"Bad dreams," said Greenleaf by way of explanation.  
  
He stood, unfolding his legs stiffly. They protested against being sat on all night but he ignored them. He folded the blanket neatly and gave it back to Aragorn.  
  
"Thank you again," he said with a wan smile.  
  
"It's nothing," replied Aragorn, "really."  
  
"I appreciate it," insisted Greenleaf.  
  
He went out of the room and down the corridor to his own room, Aragorn following behind. The dead spider looked insignificant in the daylight. Greenleaf was almost inclined to dismiss his fears of the night before on seeing the sad little corpse, but remembered what Aragorn had told him.  
  
"You said it was poisonous?" he asked the man.  
  
"I'm pretty sure of it," said Aragorn, examining the spider again, "though it's a bit hard to confirm with it being so squashed."  
  
"I wanted to make sure it was dead."  
  
"You did a good job of that."  
  
A knocking on the door that joined Greenleaf's room to the next one interrupted them.  
  
"Are you going down to breakfast, Legolas?" came Gimli's voice.  
  
"Oh," said Greenleaf, "come in a moment, Gimli."  
  
The door opened and the Dwarf walked in. He appeared surprised at what he saw. "Good morning, Aragorn."  
  
The man responded in kind.  
  
"Having a late morning, Master Elf?" continued Gimli. "You're usually up long before now, but you're still in your nightshirt. How come?"  
  
"I was disturbed in the middle of the night," answered Greenleaf, "by that." He pointed at the floor.  
  
"Well," said Gimli sceptically after a moment, "you certainly showed it what for."  
  
"I'm rather certain it's highly poisonous," said Aragorn, "so it's just as well Legolas killed it. I hate to think what would have happened otherwise.  
  
"That's quite a cheerful thought to have," commented Greenleaf.  
  
"Isn't it," said Aragorn. "Find something to put the thing in and we'll take it to Elrond after breakfast."  
  
"You go on down," said Greenleaf, "I'll catch you up. I'd like to get dressed first."  
  
"I'm sure the ladies wouldn't mind if you didn't," remarked Aragorn with a grin.  
  
"Don't be crude," retorted Greenleaf, shooing them out of the door. He got dressed, being very careful to check each garment thoroughly before putting it on.  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
And so it was that after breakfast a small group congregated in Lord Elrond's study. Greenleaf, Aragorn and Gimli were joined by Elladan and Elrohir, while Elrond sat at his desk. He examined the dead spider through a lens, frowning. Occasionally he would reach for a book and flick through its pages, muttering as he did. Finally, he looked up.  
  
"You were right, Aragorn," he said, "it's from Near Harad, one of the types known as 'bird-eaters'. Very poisonous, I'm sure you'll be comforted to know, Legolas."  
  
Greenleaf's mouth twitched. "I'm guessing you don't tend to get them round here," he said.  
  
"Never," replied Elrond, "which makes me more than curious about it."  
  
"I suppose," said Elrohir," it could have been carried in unknowingly in one of the guests' luggage, though that seems unlikely. Would it have waited so long to come out?"  
  
"I doubt it," answered Elladan, continuing the line of thought, "and anyway, Legolas' room is in a different wing from the guests, like ours. That would have to be a pretty determined spider."  
  
"So it was probably put there on purpose?" questioned Aragorn. The twins paused then nodded.  
  
"Who on Middle-earth would want to do that?" asked Gimli.  
  
"Only Legolas can tell us that," said Elrond, glancing across.  
  
Greenleaf had been staring at the arm of the chair he sat on, just listening to the discussion. "I make a lot of enemies," he said vaguely.  
  
"That's true enough," acceded Elrond. "I don't suppose you've recognised any of them around, have you?"  
  
"Not one," replied Greenleaf, "though I could have a closer look later."  
  
"A good idea," said Elrond, "spend some time tonight in the gambling halls and get a good look round at everyone." He smiled. "Just don't lose all your money."  
  
"As if I would."  
  
"Was someone trying to kill Legolas then?" asked Elrohir.  
  
"It looks like it," said Elrond.  
  
"What a dastardly way to go about it!" exclaimed Elladan.  
  
"It is rather," agreed Elrohir, "and it'll probably be quite tricky getting our hands on him."  
  
"Assuming that it is a him, of course," added Greenleaf.  
  
"You think it's a woman?" scoffed Elrohir.  
  
"I'm keeping an open mind," said Greenleaf, "it never hurts to."  
  
"And how many women do you know who would be capable of such?" asked Elladan, folding his arms.  
  
"I see you have never met a shield maiden of the Rohirrim," commented Greenleaf, grinning at Aragorn, "failing that, I'd say that your sister's pretty deadly, with or without a blade in her hand."  
  
"A good point," said Elrond, smiling, "and well made. Quite accurate too." He looked at his sons. "Come now, you are not as unworldly as all that. Women can fight also."  
  
"Aye," said Gimli unexpectedly, "among my people they do."  
  
They all turned to look at him, and he flushed a little. Greenleaf smiled, just knowing what someone would ask. It was Elladan who did.  
  
"I wasn't exactly aware that there were Dwarf women," he said, oh-so- delicately.  
  
"Of course there are!" replied Gimli. "How do you suppose Dwarves are born? Think we just spring out of the rock?"  
  
"Thing is, Elladan," explained Greenleaf, placing and arm around the other Elf's shoulders and thoroughly enjoying himself, "Dwarf women are so alike to Dwarf men that it is hard to tell the difference."  
  
"We know," said Gimli.  
  
"Naturally," continued Greenleaf, "but to the untrained eye it is no easy task." He whispered in Elladan's ear. "I believe there's something to do with the silkiness of their beards."  
  
"Oh," said Elladan. He gave Gimli's beard a sideways glance. "Hmm..."  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
Greenleaf took his time getting dressed before he went down to the gambling halls. He wanted to make the proper impression on his fellow players. They had, obviously, already seen him at dinner, but never to be introduced or talk to. Besides, the better he looked the more confident he felt.  
  
He selected a deep green tunic, cut just above the knee and with silver embroidery up the chest and round the neck. It was a well-made tunic, which fitted perfectly. It had been made in Mirkwood by the best tailor there –there were some perks to being royalty. With the tunic he wore a brown pair of leggings, combining the two colours favoured by Silvan Elves. He eyed his hair critically for a moment then plaited it in his usual style, fingers twisting the long strands easily in the familiar patterns. He examined his reflection. A handsome –though he said it himself- and well- dressed Elf looked back at him, impeccably groomed. There was one imperfection; the pale scar down his right cheek. But even that didn't spoil the effect; it gave him an almost rakish air.  
  
With one final look, he headed out of his room and down the corridor. He met Aragorn on the way. The man gave him a big grin.  
  
"Knock 'em dead," he said.  
  
"I think Lord Elrond would take issue with me if I did," replied Greenleaf, "I'm just going for the fun."  
  
"I might join you later," said Aragorn.  
  
"What for?" asked Greenleaf. "Do you think I'll need help?"  
  
"Oh, of course not. I just want to see the entertainment."  
  
"Hah!" snorted Greenleaf.  
  
"Seriously," said Aragorn soberly, laying a hand on Greenleaf's shoulder, "watch your back."  
  
Greenleaf smiled at him. "I always do. Don't worry."  
  
He went on his way. The gambling halls were on the opposite side of the valley, reached by a long white bridge that spanned one of the waterfalls. Greenleaf crossed it, enjoying the view as he did. It was early evening, the sky was still light and birds still flew around. The updraft created by the falling water caught the ends of his hair, lifting them gently. It was very peaceful, and the perfect evening in Greenleaf's opinion for some entertainment. He walked inside, nodding cheerfully at the two Elves who stood there as guards.  
  
It was the custom in the halls for gamblers to bet almost anything they wished, though the line was emphatically drawn at bringing livestock inside. The dealers were always there to settle any arguments about the value of items, and on the whole it made for a good system. Gems and precious stones were a fairly common currency, and Elrond ensured that experts were on hand should any dispute arise. Bottles of drink were also popular, particularly wine or beer. Greenleaf had brought gems, stored in several different bags about his person. It was probably a foolish precaution, as the halls were quite safe, but old habits die hard and Greenleaf had had a long lifetime in which to build habits up.  
  
The halls themselves were built like the rest of Rivendell. Pale stone formed the walls, in which were set high arches. Late evening sunlight shafted through, falling across the rich red carpets. A lavish mural covered one wall, depicting Nimrodel and Amroth, while graceful statues stood against the rest. Lord Elrond reminding the gamblers where they are, thought Greenleaf wryly. The gambling tables were around the room in a seemingly random pattern, though he was sure there would be a reason for each placing. He headed for the bar.  
  
"A Mirkwood red, please," he said, leaning on the bar.  
  
"The '69 or the '75?" asked the bar Elf.  
  
"The '69, of course," said Greenleaf.  
  
"A good choice," replied the bar Elf, turning to get it. He opened the bottle professionally and poured the red wine into a crystal glass. "Enjoy, sir."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Greenleaf leant his back against the bar and sipped his wine. The gamblers were going on with their business, mostly concentrating on the job in hand. A few heads turned in curiosity to see the Elf, though none he recognised. He let his eyes wander over them, his gaze never lingering over anyone for long. Mostly men, though a couple of Dwarves sat at the blackjack table, a few Elves were around, and Greenleaf could see two women. And was that a hobbit in the far corner? It could be, though they were rare this far from the Shire. The last time Greenleaf had seen one in Rivendell Saruman had been stealing the ring from him. Greenleaf smiled. Yes, it was definitely a hobbit. The curly hair and hairy feet were a dead giveaway.  
  
"Good evening, Sir Elf," said a voice from behind. "Are you here to join in the games?"  
  
Greenleaf turned. It was the lady pointed out by the twins as Elliane of Brising. "Yes, I am," he replied.  
  
"And do you have company?" she asked.  
  
"No," he said, dreading what else she was going to say.  
  
"Then I must accompany you!" she exclaimed, smiling charmingly.  
  
"I would be delighted," said Greenleaf, feeling anything but, "my lady."  
  
"Oh, you must call me Elliane," she said. "You are?"  
  
"Greenleaf. Legolas Greenleaf."  
  
"Wonderful," she trilled, taking his arm and pulling him out onto the floor.  
  
Greenleaf gallantly allowed himself to be pulled. She seemed almost pleasant, if overbearing. He kept remembering Elrohir's words, "notorious for the usual reasons" and Elladan's addition, "very popular with the men". He could see why. Dressed in a red dress just on the right side of decent, she was stunning, if a little well maintained. Dark hair was piled on the back of her head. Her breasts were pushed up to prominence, curving into the front of her dress. Greenleaf wondered for a moment whether the reason she had a reputation was because she didn't give any man a chance to say no. With an imperceptible sigh, he let himself be dragged to the poker table.  
  
::::::::::::::::::: 


	3. Luck Be A Lady Tonight

**Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
The Span of Solace  
**  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction, therefore it never actually happened. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
**Author's Notes:** As you may have guessed, the chapter title and some of the musings were borrowed from 'Guys and Dolls', one of my favourite shows. I was playing in the band for a production when I wrote this chapter, so that's why. This is my attempt at a Flemingesque card game. Please bear in mind that I haven't played poker in years and was following a book's instructions. Any variations from the normal game can be construed as Middle-earth variations.  
  
**Review replies:** Idlewild: You saw Sauron's body, didn't you? He got burned to a crisp. Afraid I've got another holiday coming up as well. I'm glad you like Elliane. She will keep insinuating herself. More of her in this chapter.  
  
Nemo Returning: I'm sorry, did I give you nightmares? Heh, sorry about that.  
  
theinklesspen: Yes, it is over East. Do you think that's an important plot point or something?  
  
:::::::::::::::::::  
  
**Chapter 3. Luck Be A Lady Tonight**  
  
There was one space left at the poker table, between a tall, rather pale man and a short squat one. Greenleaf took it, nodding at the Elf who stood in charge of the table. A soft pair of lips were suddenly pressed against his cheek and he turned, surprised.  
  
"For luck," whispered Elliane, straightening up. She stepped back to stand with the rest of the observers.  
  
Greenleaf sighed inwardly. No chance of staying even slightly in the background with that lady on his arm. He regarded his fellow players. Aside from the two he sat between there were three others. Clockwise from where he sat there was the pale man, a Gondorian, a portly red-faced man, a man who looked to be of Haradrim origin, and the squat man on Greenleaf's right.  
  
"Ante your stakes please, gentlemen," requested the Elf in charge. He was a dark-haired Noldor whom Greenleaf didn't know.  
  
The Haradrim placed a small jewelled dagger in the centre of the table. The portly man brought out a diamond as big as his thumbnail. The others put various combinations of coins on the table. Greenleaf selected a ruby and pushed it forward. The Noldor Elf picked each stake up and examined them through a small lens. Finally he nodded. They were all good. He picked up the deck of cards from the table and shuffled them, passing them expertly through pale fingers. He dealt a card face up to the pale man. It was the six of clubs. The next card, to the Gondorian, was the ten of diamonds. The portly man received the seven of spades. Then the Haradrim was dealt the jack of clubs. He would be the dealer for this game. The Noldor took in all the cards and shuffled them again. The Haradrim took them and also shuffled them.  
  
Greenleaf watched as the cards were dealt out, five to each player. His nerves were tingling pleasantly. There was a certain buzz he got from gambling, as much as he liked to deny it. Winning or losing; it all hung on the turn of a card. Flimsy pieces of stiff paper could destroy a man, or it could make him. Innocent symbols –hearts, diamonds, spades, clubs- could become weapons of a downfall.  
  
Greenleaf had his own theories about luck as well. There was only one definition of it for him: she was a lady. She could be warm and loving, giving him a brilliant run, only to turn cold and distant and go off with someone else. He accepted it as the only thing, while doing all he could to keep her by his side. There was only so much skill a gambler could use before he could do no more and he was relying on Lady Luck. And that was when he either flew or fell. Luck makes a fickle mistress.  
  
Greenleaf picked up his hand and studied it. Two aces, hearts and clubs, the jack of hearts, the five of diamonds, and the seven of spades. Not too bad. He could work with that.  
  
He glanced at the other players' faces, but didn't learn much. The squat man on his right was scowling at his cards, while the others remained impassive. The dealer took a long look at everyone round the tale then reached into his pouch.  
  
"Raise," he grunted, "two gold coins."  
  
He pushed them forward, and then looked to his left at the short squat man.  
  
"Raise one gold and two silver coins," said the short man.  
  
The attention turned to Greenleaf, who paused for a moment just for effect.  
  
"Raise one ruby," he said.  
  
The pale man reached into his pocket slowly, pulling out a couple of coins. He pushed them forwards with barely a word.  
  
The Gondorian next in line fidgeted nervously. He tucked his hair behind his ear and licked his lips before making a decision.  
  
"Fold," he whispered, laying his cards face down.  
  
There was little reaction from the other players. He got up quickly and left the table. Greenleaf didn't predict much of a future for him on the gambling tables. At least, not a future involving him winning much money. The play now turned to the portly man.  
  
"Raise one emerald," he said. He was difficult to read, Greenleaf decided, deceptively jovial.  
  
The dealer nodded, his black-rimmed eyes flicking once round the players before he laid two cards face down on the table and taking two from the top of the pack.  
  
"Three," said the next man in line, the short one, discarding three and receiving his new cards.  
  
Greenleaf laid down the five of diamonds and the seven of spades. The ace and the jack of hearts were worth hanging onto, as was the ace of clubs.  
  
"Two," he said, and took them. They were the king of hearts and the ten of the same suit. Inwardly, he rejoiced. That wasn't bad.  
  
The tale pale man on Greenleaf's left asked for and received two cards. Though his reaction was not obvious, he wasn't pleased with them.  
  
"Three," said the portly man, his fingers rubbing at a gold ring on his thumb. His chins wobbled a little.  
  
Greenleaf followed the play, which had reached the Haradrim dealer again.  
  
Another flicker of the dark eyes then the almost guttural sppech. "Raise five gold coins."  
  
There was an audible gasp from the watchers who had gathered around. That was a large increase.  
  
The squat man was clearly nervous. There was a delicate beading of sweat at his temples. After a long silent pause, in which he glanced at the pool at the centre and again at his hand, he laid his cards down with obvious regret.  
  
"Fold," he said, and left the table. He went as far as the crowd where he stopped and turned to watch. Play fell to Greenleaf.  
  
He was feeling quite confident, and he happily met the Haradrim's stake.  
  
"Raise two sapphires." He pushed them forwards. The setting sun caught them, shining through their facets.  
  
"Fold," said the pale man almost immediately. He had obviously already made his decision and had taken the option of abandoning what money he had already put down rather than losing more.  
  
The portly man, with a sideways look at Greenleaf, raised his stake by another diamond. Play moved to the Haradrim again. He placed three cards down and took three more.  
  
Greenleaf took a long look at his cards. If he got the one he wanted then his hand was perfect. Though if he abandoned that idea he would still have a pair of aces. Taking his decision, he laid the ace of clubs face down on the table. Luck would have to be his lady tonight. The dealer slid one red- backed card across the table. It looked like a tongue poking out mockingly, daring him to pick it up. He did so and, keeping his face impassive, looked at it.  
  
It was the wrong lady. The Queen of Spades gazed balefully back at him. With her his hand was worth nothing. He had to hope that the portly man had no wish to call his hand yet.  
  
He was lucky in that at least. The man laid down a card and accepted another. His face gave no sign as to his fortunes. It was as impassive as a freshly slaughtered slab of meat, sweating apparently only from the heat. His eyes were small and dark, set close together in the wide face. They passed, seemingly disinterested, over his cards, his two opponents, and back to his cards again. His fingers were twice as thick as Greenleaf's and mostly adorned with glinting rings. Greenleaf studiously ignored the play of light on the jewellery. It was a common ploy, to distract the opponent. Greenleaf was wise to it though, and didn't allow it to take his attention from the game.  
  
It was the Haradrim's turn again. He moved his head a little, slowly and definitely. A large golden ring dangled from his right ear, gleaming momentarily in the last rays of the sun as it sank behind the hills. His left hand, which rested on the tabletop, twitched slightly, each finger lifting and falling in turn. He blinked deliberately.  
  
"Fold," he said eventually. His cards were laid down before him, faces kissing the green felt. He stayed in his seat, beside the deck of cards.  
  
It was now Greenleaf's turn to either raise or fold. He was faced with a similar decision to that of the last round, though from a worse position. He didn't even have a pair to fall back on. He could raise his bet and take a chance, or he could fold and let the other man win. And putting it like that gave him no choice. Greenleaf didn't particularly like the look of the man, and to let him win so easily would just be wrong. Greenleaf reached into his pouch, smiling a little to disguise his trepidation.  
  
"Raise two rubies," he said, pushing them forward to join the rest of the pot.  
  
The portly man's jowls wobbled as he considered his position. The fingers against the backs of his cards beat a brief tattoo and he gave the appearance of being a little nervous. Greenleaf examined the man's face carefully. He wasn't convinced with his performance. The man was confident underneath.  
  
"Raise one diamond," said the man, chins jiggling. The sparkling jewel joined the pile in the centre of the table.  
  
Greenleaf knew what his next move would be. He placed the Queen of Spades on the table face down. It seemed a little impolite, but he was sure she wouldn't really mind. The dealer slid him another card. Greenleaf hardly dared pick it up, but pushed aside the foolishness. With dry fingers that didn't shake in the slightest, he picked it up.  
  
It was his lady, the one he had been waiting for. She regarded him calmly, as if completely unaware of how much he'd wanted her. He kept his face as blank as hers.  
  
The portly man also discarded one card and received another. For all the movement in his face, it said very little about what he felt. He watched Greenleaf carefully after glancing down at his new card. Greenleaf returned the compliment, trying to ascertain whether it was confidence or bluff. Although his own hand was good, very good in fact, there was still a chance of being beaten by a five of a kind. He couldn't afford to get cocky, but he was fairly sure of himself.  
  
"Raise two emeralds," he said levelly.  
  
"Raise one ruby, one sapphire," said the portly man almost immediately after. He gave Greenleaf a calculating look. "Care to raise any further?"  
  
Greenleaf returned the gaze. Confidence or bluff, that was the question. Was the man really that sure of his cards or was he trying to make Greenleaf crack? Either way, the Elf wouldn't let him succeed.  
  
"If you're happy to match it," he said. He reached into his pouch. "Raise three diamonds."  
  
There was a reaction from the watching crowd, though Greenleaf barely noticed it. He was concentrating on what the man would do. He had deliberately raised the stake that much just to see how confident the man was.  
  
"Raise two diamonds, three gold coins," came the reply, after only a short pause.  
  
Then it was time, Greenleaf knew, to call his hand. The man seemed satisfied with his hand, shown by the way he had raised the stakes again.  
  
"I'll call," said Greenleaf.  
  
"I also," said the portly man. "After you."  
  
Greenleaf laid his cards on their backs with his elegant fingers. Staring up were the ace, king, queen, jack and ten of hearts, their red badges of suit gleaming in the light of the candles that had now been lit.  
  
"Tirith Flush," declared Greenleaf quietly.  
  
There was barely a sound from the observers. It remained now only for the portly man to call his hand. He paused, knowing the drama of the moment, and then sighed.  
  
"Four of a kind," he said, laying them down, "you win." On the table lay an eight of each suit and the four of clubs. It would have been a good hand had Greenleaf not had a better one.  
  
There was a brief smattering of applause from the watchers before they began drifting away. Greenleaf and the portly man both stood as the Elf in charge of the table began collecting up the cards.  
  
"A good game, my friend," said the portly man, clapping Greenleaf on the shoulder. Something in the way he said 'friend' indicated that he didn't mean it.  
  
Greenleaf just smiled and gathered up his winnings. Elliane came up to stand beside him.  
  
"That was wonderful!" she exclaimed. "You're a very good player."  
  
"I try my best," said Greenleaf modestly, wishing her voice wasn't quite so high pitched.  
  
"Do you know who you just beat?" she asked, seizing his arm as they walked away.  
  
"No," admitted Greenleaf. "Anybody important?"  
  
"Frank Scarmang," said Elliane conspiratorially, "he's very rich. Comes from somewhere in Gondor, I think." She laughed. "You'll have to watch out. He doesn't like losing."  
  
"Doesn't he? Oh dear. If I'd known I'd have let him win," joked Greenleaf. He was suddenly rather glad of her company. She probably knew absolutely everybody there. That could be useful.  
  
"Let me buy you a drink," he suggested gallantly, leading her towards the bar.  
  
"If you insist," she sighed, though her eyes were bright.  
  
"Wine?" asked Greenleaf.  
  
"Are you good at choosing?" asked Elliane, tilting her head a little.  
  
"I try my best," he said. "A red?"  
  
"My favourite."  
  
The bar Elf smiled as he recognised Greenleaf. He put down the glass he held –no matter where or who bar staff will always be wiping a glass with a cloth- and came over to serve them.  
  
"Same as before, sir?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, thank you," said Greenleaf, "it is a fine vintage."  
  
"I am afraid I cannot take the credit for that," said the bar Elf, "I only serve it."  
  
"But you serve it magnificently," said Greenleaf.  
  
The bar Elf chuckled and poured the wine into two glasses. "I'll put it on your tab," he said.  
  
"Thank you," said Greenleaf. He passed one of the glasses to Elliane, and then strolled with her to sit by one of the windows. The chairs had a view of the whole room.  
  
Elliane took a sip of the wine. "It's very good," she said. Her tongue slipped out to rescue the few drops that lingered on the edge of her lips.  
  
Greenleaf was struck by how arranged her pose was. Her knees, under the elegantly draped red silk, were drawn demurely together, though her left hand was placed on her thigh and slightly adapted the image of innocence. She held the wineglass almost carelessly, her elbow crooked artistically. Her neck, arms and the top of her bosom were all bare, all smooth, pale flesh. Greenleaf decided that an artist would pay a great deal to have her as a model. He wasn't so impressed, but didn't show it.  
  
"A Mirkwood vintage," he said, "the '69. It's one of the best, if rather strong."  
  
"I suppose you're used to it," she said. "Do you drink it often?"  
  
"It is something of a vice of mine," he admitted. It was the only one he allowed himself. He leaned back in his chair and glanced around. "You seem to know a lot about all the guests here," he said conversationally. "Are any of them particularly interesting?" He smiled. "Aside from your good self, of course."  
  
She giggled a little then settled into that women's prerogative: gossip.  
  
"Well, that man there –you see the one in the red and gold tunic?" She indicated with a subtle twist of her head. "He's Lord Ernest Bloaf. Very rich. I believe his mother comes from somewhere over by Rhûn, but his father comes from the West. There was quite a scandal at the time, from what I've heard."  
  
Greenleaf didn't doubt that she'd heard a lot. He glanced over at Lord Bloaf. The man was fairly large of face and his expression not quite pleasant. His hair was short and black. He didn't seem a particularly cheerful chap, scowling darkly as he got up from the roulette table.  
  
"And that woman there," continued Elliane in a colder tone, "is Lady Compton. The man with her is her sixth husband, as far as anyone knows. There may be more but no one's quite sure. Rumour has it that she's on the hunt for another, having got bored of that one." She gave the husband a look over. "Don't blame her really. You'd better look out."  
  
"Me?" asked Greenleaf, surprised by the sudden turn in conversation.  
  
"She'd find an Elf quite a catch, and she keeps glancing across at you," said Elliane, looking smug.  
  
"So do half the people in the room," answered Greenleaf, "there aren't any other Mirkwood Elves around here. I probably stand out rather a lot."  
  
"It's not just that," said Elliane, her eyelashes lowering and raising slowly, "unless every Elf in Mirkwood is as handsome as you."  
  
"There are plenty more handsome Elves there."  
  
Elliane laughed. "Now that I doubt extremely. You should not do yourself down, Legolas, you are most well-favoured in face," she smiled, "and form."  
  
Greenleaf inwardly winced at the familiar use of his name and the compliments. "You are too kind," he said, "but I do not think so highly of myself. I am far from perfect."  
  
"If you mean that scar on your cheek," put in Elliane pointedly (Greenleaf started: he hadn't meant that), "then you need not worry. It quite becomes you, makes you seem dashing and dangerous."  
  
Luckily, before that particular vein of conversation could be pursued, there was a distraction in the form of a woman moving away from behind them. She was fairly squat, with scraped back ginger hair. Elliane had a sneer on her face as she watched her go, but smiled cheerfully when she noticed Greenleaf's questioning glance.  
  
"That's Rose Khelek," she explained coolly," I don't know much about her, no one does. I don't think she spends much time in these sorts of places. She's clearly not used to it."  
  
"Isn't she?" asked Greenleaf. "I hadn't noticed." He glanced across the room and noticed with relief that Aragorn was entering at the other end of the room. He looked across and saw them.  
  
"That's Estel," said Elliane, leaning over to mutter in Greenleaf's ear, "I don't know much about him, only that he seems very much part of the family here. There's something else to him as well though. It's a pity he seems to be taken."  
  
"Yes, Arwen is quite protective of what's hers," said Greenleaf, glad to be able to pull her up short in her gossip spree, which he had, admittedly, prompted.  
  
"Oh, so you know him?" asked Elliane, to her credit barely missing a beat.  
  
"A little," answered Greenleaf, smiling. He stood as Aragorn reached them. "Estel," he greeted him.  
  
"Legolas," responded the man in kind, "and Elliane." He gave a little bow. "How does your evening go?"  
  
"Quite well so far," said Greenleaf.  
  
"Legolas had a wonderful win at poker," put in Elliane, "you should have seen him. He's got nerves of steel."  
  
"I don't doubt it," said Aragorn wryly. He grinned at Greenleaf.  
  
"And as the winner," said Greenleaf, "I shall stand both of you a drink. The same again, my lady?"  
  
"Oh no," replied Elliane, "it is too strong for more than one glass. I think one of the house whites would be best."  
  
"I shall choose the most suitable." Greenleaf touched Aragorn's arm subtly. "We shall return forthwith, my lady."  
  
They strolled towards the bar, neither too fast nor too slow. As soon as they were out of her earshot, Aragorn spoke.  
  
"What do you think of our dear Elliane then?" he asked.  
  
"She's useful," replied Greenleaf, "she knows a lot about everyone."  
  
"Put business aside for a moment," said Aragorn, "I want to know what you really thought of her."  
  
"I wasn't aware of her morals at all," said Greenleaf conversationally, "she was warning me about Lady Compton while being what I can only describe as overcomplimentative to me. Called me 'well-favoured'."  
  
"You'd better watch out," warned Aragorn, chuckling.  
  
"I can cope," said Greenleaf, "and as I said, she's useful."  
  
"And she could be the one who put the spider in your bed."  
  
"I don't think so. I'd imagine she's rather repulsed by insects and their ilk. Although it could be a wonderful act."  
  
"And on that topic," said Aragorn as they reached the bar, "have you recognised anyone or seen any likely suspects?"  
  
Greenleaf didn't answer straightaway, but spoke to the bar Elf first. "Same as before for me, and the Rivendell white '78 for the lady. Estel, what will you have?"  
  
"The same as Elliane," answered Aragorn, "that Mirkwood stuff of yours is deadly."  
  
"And the '78 also for my companion." The bar Elf went off to get them. "Lightweight," muttered Greenleaf to Aragorn, before turning to the man's earlier question. "I haven't seen anyone familiar, no, but there's a charming bunch of people here. Lord Elrond must love having them around."  
  
The drinks arrived and with brief thanks to the bar Elf they took them and walked back towards Elliane.  
  
"But otherwise," said Aragorn, "a successful evening?"  
  
"Financially, yes," replied Greenleaf, "it was a rather good win. And even if I haven't spotted anyone I've got a good idea who's around. Supposing there is actually anything to worry about."  
  
"It's always worth being careful," said Aragorn, seeing Greenleaf's meaning, "and I don't think that spider got into your bed by chance."  
  
"No," said Greenleaf quietly.  
  
Aragorn gave him a look. "I know what'll cheer you up," he said, "Arwen and I were planning on a picnic tomorrow, out in the woods. Why don't you come along?"  
  
"Wouldn't I get in the way?" Greenleaf raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Not at all," said Aragorn, "Arwen suggested it actually."  
  
"But still," said Greenleaf, "a picnic?"  
  
"A picnic?" asked Elliane. They had reached her without noticing.  
  
Greenleaf suddenly smiled. "Yes," he said, "Estel was just suggesting I go on a picnic with him tomorrow. I don't suppose you would...?" He artfully left the point unfinished.  
  
"I'd be delighted," she answered, "oh, Legolas, a picnic would be wonderful. I love picnics!"  
  
"As do I," said Greenleaf.  
  
"Now I simply must have a fling on the roulette," said Elliane, "do come and be lucky for me, Legolas. You did so brilliantly earlier."  
  
"I shall endeavour to be at my luckiest for you," said Greenleaf, offering his hand to help her out of her chair.  
  
She took his arm his arm and practically swept across the floor with the Elf in tow. Aragorn followed at a safe distance. More than a few heads turned as the striking couple crossed the room. One pair of eyes was fixed only on Greenleaf. Their owner, having heard the entire conversation, stared at the Elf for a few minutes then turned and abruptly left the hall. No one noticed.  
  
Elliane went straight up to the table while Greenleaf stopped at the rail that separated the players from the watchers. Aragorn joined him. They watched as Elliane placed a bet on red.  
  
"What was that for?" questioned Aragorn quietly. "Asking her to come along."  
  
"Like I said," answered Greenleaf, "she's useful. And occasionally amusing. There's nothing like hanging around humans to amuse you."  
  
"Well, thank you very much."  
  
Greenleaf laughed. "Oh, don't panic about it. I'll get Gimli to come along as well."  
  
"You're actually enjoying her company, aren't you?" asked Aragorn.  
  
"Yes," said Greenleaf, after a brief consideration, "yes, I am. Not through any merits of hers, I assure you, but I find her, well, fascinating. In the same way that you can't take your eyes off a crashing cart. You just have to know what'll happen next."  
  
"That's true enough," agreed Aragorn. He sighed. "At least she won't make passes at me with Arwen there."  
  
Greenleaf rolled his eyes. "I shall have to rely on Gimli to guard my honour."  
  
"What, tell him to bring his axe?" asked Aragorn.  
  
"He's tried it before," said Greenleaf, "he claimed that it was a cultural artifact and as much a part of his clothes as his shirt."  
  
"Did it work?"  
  
"Yes." Greenleaf smiled. "Though they were probably more scared of him than anything else. Afraid for their kneecaps, I suppose."  
  
Aragorn laughed. "You had fun then," he said, "on your little jaunt round Middle-earth."  
  
"Oh, we did. Though I have to say, I've seen my fill of caves."  
  
"How come you didn't get in touch?"  
  
Greenleaf pulled a face. "I felt like a holiday," he answered, half- defiant. "Besides, what was the worst she could do? Sack me?"  
  
"You know she wouldn't," said Aragorn.  
  
"Precisely," said Greenleaf, "and even if she did then I'd find something to do."  
  
"Really?" Aragorn gave him a sceptical look.  
  
"Well, maybe." Greenleaf pushed the question away. He smiled brightly as Elliane came up to them. "A good game?" he asked.  
  
"Really, weren't you watching?" She gave a mock pout. "I suppose you two were talking about something dreadfully serious. Well, it doesn't matter. I had some wonderful wins."  
  
"Congratulations," said Greenleaf.  
  
Elliane took his arm. "Come one, I don't want to lose this fabulous run of luck you've given me."  
  
Greenleaf, with a rueful grin at Aragorn, let his escort pull him away and into the room. All around the business of gambling went on, with some winners and some losers. Money went from hand to hand as the players sought the favours of luck, each in their own different ways. Prayers went up from many, selfishly pleading for monetary wealth. All the worst qualities of men, and others, were brought out into this airy hall where candles were lit as the light failed.  
  
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	4. The Elf With The Golden Hair

**Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in  
  
The Span of Solace  
**  
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**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction, therefore it never actually happened. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.  
  
**Author's Notes:** As I am going away on an orchestra course for about two weeks from tomorrow, chapter five will not be posted next week. Apologies. I'm going to be having lots of fun elsewhere. Hopefully this will keep you going. I've been rather busy in the last week, playing for a production of 'Les Miserables', so not much else to say. If I hadn't been punning on Bond titles, the chapter would have been called 'If You Go Down To The Woods Today'.  
  
**Review replies:** Jellyman: wow, rather a lot of reviews there. Kept me happy. I'm glad you like the series. I was quite proud of having the pair go off round Middle-earth; it seemed both Tolkienish and Bondian.  
  
Idlewild: What does 'mea culpa' mean? (shows own ignorance.) You noticed my little trail of Bond-inspired baddies then. I'm running out of Tolkien ones. And you want more attempts on his life? Your wish is my command.  
  
Nemo Returning: You are far too good at irritating puns. I'm rubbish at poker really. I made it all up.  
  
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**Chapter 4. The Elf With The Golden Hair**  
  
The picnic took place in the woods to the west of Rivendell, where the light fell green through the leaves of the trees. It was a glorious day, with bright sunshine and clear blue skies. Despite that, it was cool beneath the trees, pleasantly so. They spread a green blanket on the grass to sit on. Elliane flopped onto it.  
  
"Phew!" she exclaimed. "Isn't it a hot day?"  
  
It wasn't precisely clear why she was so hot. As far as was decent she wore as little material as possible, though her dress seemed overly complicated. Arwen sat down with much more elegance. She wore a simple white dress, confident that anything looked good on an Elf.  
  
Greenleaf and Aragorn had carried the picnic hamper between them, and they set it down beside the blanket. Inside it was a testament to the skills of Rivendell's cooks. Bread, cheese, ham and eggs were all quickly taken out and set on the blanket. Many varieties of cake soon followed. Greenleaf, taking out the last one, felt something lumpy and hard beneath the cloth at the bottom. Checking that no one was looking, he lifted the corner and had a peek. It was Gimli's axe, tucked among the folds. Greenleaf smirked a little. The Dwarf must have out it in after he had hidden his knife there.  
  
"Oh, doesn't it all look wonderful!" said Elliane. She seemed to be at her most enthusiastic.  
  
"That's one thing I'll say about Elf-homes," said Gimli, "they do the best food."  
  
"I supervised it personally," out in Arwen, unfolding a napkin delicately on her lap.  
  
"And you've done so perfectly," said Aragorn, settling beside her. His hand touched hers briefly and they shared a smile. "I can't wait to get started on it."  
  
"It's not that long since you had breakfast," chastised Greenleaf lightly, "you did get up rather late."  
  
"Long after the rest of us," added Gimli.  
  
"Well," retorted Aragorn, "not all of us have Elven endurance. Just because you can spend all night drinking and get up next morning fresh as a daisy. Particularly considering that stuff you drink."  
  
"Never mind," said Greenleaf, "I'm sure you weren't the last one up. I wonder who was." It was an open ended comment.  
  
"That would probably have been Lord Bloaf," said Elliane, "he's hardly ever at breakfast. He wasn't today."  
  
"Maybe he has it in bed," suggested Greenleaf.  
  
"Not that I know of," replied Elliane.  
  
Arwen had to stuff a sandwich in her mouth to stop from giggling. When Elliane wasn't paying attention she Arwen sent Greenleaf a sharp look. That was mean, her look said, leading her on like that. Greenleaf merely smiled back innocently. He wasn't implying anything; he was letting Elliane do it herself. She was the sort of woman he generally despised, but found fascinating all the same. She was guaranteed to say something that should by rights embarrass her hugely but manage to say it without realising. It was quite an entertainment.  
  
"There's a lot of people staying here," said Greenleaf, "I'm sure there's not usually this many."  
  
"No, there aren't," said Aragorn, "we are remarkably full at the moment. I don't really know why."  
  
"Oh, word's been getting around about the halls here," replied Elliane.  
  
"Has it?" asked Arwen.  
  
"Yes," replied Elliane, "some of Minas Tirith's upper crust came last year and they found it rather splendid. Good location, good gambling, and charming people. And, well, when they recommend something then everyone's got to be involved."  
  
"That's good," said Arwen distantly, "good to know we're popular."  
  
"Well, it's got so much more style here," continued Elliane, "compared with the human run establishments. And people are curious about Elves."  
  
"Are they?" asked Greenleaf. "I can't think why."  
  
"Oh, you know," said Aragorn with a grin, "they're odd sorts of folk, to be sure. Can't figure them out at all."  
  
Arwen, sitting next to him, gave him a playful cuff round the head.  
  
"It's the females that are the worst," added Aragorn, ducking.  
  
"They aren't as hard to understand as Dwarves," said Greenleaf, winking at Gimli, "why any race would choose to live underground is completely beyond me."  
  
"It's better than talking to trees," retorted Gimli.  
  
"Oh, do you really talk to trees?" asked Elliane, quite sincerely. "I had heard that in a rumour but didn't believe it. Is it true?"  
  
"I..." Greenleaf began.  
  
"Come on, Legolas, answer the lady," said Gimli, looking thoroughly happy.  
  
"Yes, do go on," said Aragorn, "I'm all ears."  
  
"It's not so much talking to them," explained Greenleaf, "as much as listening to them. They all have voices, you know, and songs of their own. The Elves woke them, a long time ago."  
  
"It's mostly just Wood-elves," put in Arwen, "and it's not so much talking to them as singing is what he means."  
  
"Snooty Noldor," muttered Greenleaf.  
  
"That's amazing!" exclaimed Elliane. "What are they saying now?"  
  
"Now? I don't know." Greenleaf glanced around, looking at the trees and listening to them. The trees here were quiet and restful for the most part, but they seemed eager to speak to him. He listened happily to their woody chorus, but soon lost his cheer on hearing what they said.  
  
He dived to the left suddenly. A long wooden arrow thunked into the ground where he had been sitting and stuck there quivering. Greenleaf rolled to a crouch, seeing as he did that the others were frozen, transfixed by the sight of the arrow.  
  
"Move!" he yelled, dodging another arrow. It brushed his hair as it whistled past.  
  
He grabbed one of Gimli's rock cakes from the blanket. It was quite solid (Greenleaf privately suspected it to be a Dwarvish preference to eat rock- like things) and had enough weight to it. He hurled it at where the shots had come from. It hit something, and then there was the sound of a person fleeing clumsily.  
  
"What's going on?" asked Elliane, an image of a damsel in distress.  
  
Greenleaf didn't answer. "Gimli," he ordered, "escort the ladies back. Leave the hamper for now. Ar- Estel, come with me."  
  
"But..." protested Gimli.  
  
"Don't argue," said Greenleaf, "go."  
  
He reached into the hamper and pulled out Gimli's axe and his own knife. Aragorn raised an eyebrow momentarily before pulling a knife from his own boot. They both took off into the trees, running fast. Gimli glared after them for a moment. Why, he asked silently, leave me with the wenches?  
  
Greenleaf ran ahead, long legs covering the distance easily. Aragorn came along not far behind. Their prey fled before them, breaking many branches as he did. He was heading for the edge of the woods, where he probably had a horse. Greenleaf quickened his pace, planning on catching the man before he got that far. It obviously was a man ahead, a hunter by the look of him. He crashed through the foliage, surprisingly fast, but Greenleaf was gaining steadily. He ducked a wildly swinging branch and hurried on.  
  
The hunter's back was visible ahead when Greenleaf decided on a new tactic. Gripping a tree limb above his head he swung upwards, leaping lightly up into the branches. Aragorn carried on below, unsurprised as the Elf vanished upwards. Greenleaf made his way through the trees by a mixture of running, jumping and swinging. His feet landed surely on each branch, just as his hands kept their hold firmly. He caught up with the hunter easily. They ran in parallel for a short while before Greenleaf leapt down.  
  
He landed on the hunter with a satisfyingly solid thump. Greenleaf wrapped his legs round the man's body as they both fell to the ground. They struggled, but it was very one-sided. Aragorn arrived as Greenleaf pinned the hunter to the forest floor face down.  
  
"Mind telling us what that was all about?" asked Greenleaf, quite politely.  
  
The man said nothing. Greenleaf sighed and placed the tip of his knife on the ground beside the man's face.  
  
"I can get a little impatient," he warned.  
  
"He can," said Aragorn, "the results aren't pretty, trust me."  
  
The hunter looked unsure, as far as could be seen with his face pressed into the dirt. His eyes flicked from side to side.  
  
"It would be better for you," continued Aragorn, "honestly."  
  
"All right," said the hunter, his voice rather muffled, "all right. Just let me up."  
  
Exchanging a glance with Aragorn, Greenleaf lifted himself, allowing the hunter up a little. The man took immediate advantage. His fist came up to slam into Greenleaf's face, momentarily stunning the Elf. The hunter grabbed the knife from Greenleaf's hand and pulled himself up as Aragorn approached, knife in hand.  
  
"Get back!" the hunter ordered, dragging the Elf up with him.  
  
Greenleaf, blinking to clear his eyes of the sparkly white lights, registered with annoyance that his own knife was being held dangerously close to his throat. What was it with people, he wondered irritably, and using his own weapons against him? He squinted angrily, seeing Aragorn reluctant to attack while the hunter held the Elf. Greenleaf still held Gimli's axe in his left hand. He was far from helpless.  
  
He grabbed the man's knife hand with his right hand, applying pressure in just the right places to make him drop the knife. He easily broke away from the man's grip, and turned to slam him against a dead, standing tree. He held the hunter by the neck so he was on his toes. Then he brought the Dwarven axe up fast to embed into the tree trunk between the man's legs. The hunter went pale and gave a little squeak. That axe was too close to certain vital parts of his anatomy to be comfortable.  
  
"Now," said Greenleaf, "I asked you a question. Questions require answers." His tone was cold.  
  
Aragorn picked up Greenleaf's knife from the ground and walked over. He handed it to Greenleaf. The Elf took it without a word, his eyes never leaving the hunter's. It was a staring match that Greenleaf was definitely winning.  
  
"You won't do anything to me," the man managed to say, his lip trembling a little, "you won't."  
  
"What makes you so certain?" asked Greenleaf calmly.  
  
"You're an Elf," said the man, "you don't do that sort of thing."  
  
"Don't we?" responded Greenleaf. "I suppose you're an expert on Elves, are you?"  
  
His right hand still grasped the hunter's neck while his knife sat comfortably in his left. The axe was stuck firmly in the tree trunk. The hunter had no conceivable method of escape and he knew it only too well. His gaze darted from side to side, trying to avoid the stare of the Elf who held him pinned. He gave no answer.  
  
"I don't like being shot at," Greenleaf went on, "it tends to put me in a bad mood. And that tends to be bad for the shooter, understand? Why did you shoot at me?"  
  
"It would be a good idea to answer," said Aragorn, when the man remained silent, "I'm telling you this from the goodness of my heart. Man to man, as it were."  
  
"Well, could you ask your friend to let go of me?" asked the hunter. "So we can speak properly, man to man."  
  
"I don't think so," said Greenleaf. "I don't trust you."  
  
"You haven't exactly endeared yourself to us," added Aragorn, "first you shoot at him then you try to escape. Not the best of starts, is it?"  
  
"Then I'm saying nothing."  
  
Greenleaf smiled, leaning forward to hold his face directly before the man's. "I was hoping you'd say that," he said. His knife came up to rest against the man's cheek. "You see, there's a lot of things I can do to persuade you to talk without killing you outright." He was aware that he sounded like Saruman, but pushed the thought away. "Would you like to find out just what I can do?"  
  
Aragorn would have laughed at the statement at any other time, but something in the Elf's voice made him realise that he was deadly serious.  
  
The hunter realised this too. "I received a note," he said, "and some gold. More gold than I'd get in a year. All I had to do was kill you."  
  
"Where is this note?" asked Greenleaf.  
  
"I-In the pouch on my belt," answered the man.  
  
Greenleaf nodded for Aragorn to reach into the pouch and retrieve the note. Aragorn pulled out the paper. It read as follows:  
  
"YOUR TARGET IS THE ELF WITH THE GOLDEN HAIR. HE HAS A SCAR DOWN HIS RIGHT CHEEK. HE WILL BE ON A PICNIC IN THE WOODS AT LUNCHTIME. YOU MAY HAVE TO KILL ANY WITNESSES."  
  
He read it out loud. Greenleaf listened, his gaze never leaving the hunter's as he did. His eyes narrowed at the terseness of the note, irritated by not surprised that it was unsigned.  
  
"Is that all?" he asked.  
  
"That's all, I swear it!" cried the hunter.  
  
"Good," said Greenleaf, releasing him, "now be off and never come back." He turned away.  
  
The hunter, obviously not having learnt his lesson, lunged at the unprotected back of the Elf. Greenleaf had expected this, and span round easily, bringing up his fist. He hit the hunter on the side of the head, knocking him out smartly. The man crumpled to the floor. Greenleaf knelt down beside him, removing all the weapons from the man. Aragorn went over to the tree and tried to pull out the axe. It was stuck fast. He tugged harder but couldn't get it out. Greenleaf walked over and gave Aragorn the hunter's bow, quiver and sword.  
  
"Weakling," he said cheerfully, before proceeding to yank the axe out and taking care to make it look easy.  
  
"I wasn't really trying," protested Aragorn.  
  
"Of course not," said Greenleaf patronisingly. He pushed his knife through his belt. "We'd better go and collect the hamper on our way back, I suppose."  
  
"I don't think he'll come after us," said Aragorn, glancing back at the unconscious hunter as they went off through the trees. "Did you have to scare him quite that much?"  
  
"It was necessary," replied Greenleaf.  
  
Aragorn shrugged. "Well," he said, "you certainly put the fear of Elves into him. He'll probably go all wobbly next time he so much as sees a pointed ear."  
  
"It's his fault," said Greenleaf, "and anyway, I leave diplomacy to others."  
  
Aragorn laughed. They reached the clearing where the blanket and hamper were, laid out exactly as they had been when they left. One of the hunter's arrows had gone straight into the ground where Greenleaf had been sitting, pinning the blanket down. The Elf looked at it for a moment then pulled it out. He examined the point.  
  
"At least he doesn't poison his arrows," he said, "otherwise I would have to have gone back and kicked him even harder."  
  
Aragorn looked up from where he was replacing the food in the hamper. "Why?" he asked.  
  
"I have no respect for anyone who stoops to poison," answered Greenleaf, "it's what orcs do, for starters. Either you can kill outright with an arrow or you can't. Poison's an underhand method, dirty. It makes any fool capable of murder."  
  
"That's true enough," said Aragorn. "I have to say, I always thought that poison was a woman's weapon." He stood, taking one edge of the blanket in his hands.  
  
Greenleaf stood also, taking the other side. "It is," he replied. They began folding the cloth. "Usually because a woman's hands aren't suited to more physical acts of murder, like strangulation. With poison it doesn't matter who's killing whom. Strength has nothing to do with it. It's cold- blooded though, premeditated and considered."  
  
Aragorn shuddered a little. "Like that spider in your bed. That sounds pretty premeditated to me."  
  
"Not necessarily a woman though. Most of them seem to be petrified of the things."  
  
"Who do you suspect?" asked Aragorn.  
  
"Everyone," said Greenleaf, taking the folded blanket from the man and laying it in the hamper, "except maybe our dear Elliane. The note did say about killing witnesses."  
  
"But she did know about the picnic. Not many people would have done." Aragorn placed the hunter's confiscated weapons on top of the blanket.  
  
"They could have heard it from the kitchen staff," said Greenleaf. He put Gimli's axe in the hamper and shut the lid. "Or overheard us last night."  
  
"Which would have given them enough time to write the note and get it to that hunter." Aragorn frowned. "What do you reckon about that note? Can we work anything out from it?"  
  
"Maybe," said Greenleaf, taking one side of the hamper, "come on, grab the other end. Ready? Now, lift." They picked up the hamper between them. "If we –up a little on your end, thanks- if we take it to Lord Elrond when we get back he might be able to make something of it."  
  
"A paper hat, perhaps," said Aragorn. "Sorry, bad joke. Do go on."  
  
"The writer was quite clever," said Greenleaf, going on, "in writing all on capital letters. It makes the writing that bit harder to recognise, but not impossible. It should give us something to work with at least."  
  
"We'd better catch this person. Soon it's not going to be safe to be with you, or anywhere hear you." Aragorn paused. "If it ever was in the first place."  
  
Greenleaf, without a free hand to use, settled for pushing the hamper into Aragorn's back in retaliation. "Miserable human," he said.  
  
"Seriously though," said Aragorn, "it's definite now that somebody is after you, isn't it? The spider could have been a coincidence, but this isn't. Someone really wants you dead."  
  
"I've had that before," said Greenleaf in a light tone. "If I had a penny for every time someone's tried to kill me, well, I'd be able to give up work and live a life of luxury."  
  
"But you wouldn't," observed Aragorn, "else you would have gone off long ago. You don't need the money and luxury would bore you."  
  
"It's all right in small doses."  
  
"In between large doses of almost getting killed, right?"  
  
Greenleaf only smiled. "We're back," he announced, seeing the buildings of Rivendell ahead.  
  
"And is that Gimli hurrying this way?" asked Aragorn.  
  
"Yes," said Greenleaf. "Do you think he's a bit irritated that we sent him off with the women?"  
  
"I expect so."  
  
"Well?" asked Gimli brusquely as he met them.  
  
"Someone trying to kill me," answered Greenleaf, "he's changed his mind now though."  
  
"And where's my axe? You haven't lost it or anything, have you?"  
  
"In here," said Greenleaf, nodding at the hamper, "and I didn't even get blood all over it."  
  
"Though he did stick it into a tree," added Aragorn cheerfully.  
  
"It was a dead tree," responded Greenleaf, glaring at the man acidly.  
  
They reached the main building of Rivendell and went in. It was cool and quiet inside. All the occupants seemed to be out, leaving the halls empty.  
  
"You take care of the hamper," Greenleaf told the other two. "Aragorn, could I have that note? I need to go and see Lord Elrond." He took the piece of paper from the man and walked down the corridor. The door to Elrond's study was shut, but Greenleaf was sure he was inside. He knocked firmly, a brief tattoo on the wood. There was silence for a moment.  
  
"Enter," came the voice from within. It sounded a little surprised.  
  
Greenleaf smiled and wondered what the likelihood of Elrond having been asleep previously was. He pushed open the door and went in. Elrond sat at his desk, completely unruffled. He raised an eyebrow at Greenleaf.  
  
"Legolas?" he said. "I thought you were out on a picnic."  
  
"We were," began Greenleaf, but was interrupted before he could continue.  
  
"I needed to speak with you anyway," said Elrond. He folded his hands on the desk before him. "I have been speaking to G about you. She feels that as you seem to be fully recovered that you should return to Lothlórien as soon as possible."  
  
"I see," said Greenleaf, "I did rather expect something like this. But..."  
  
"Oh, Gimli may accompany you if he wishes. G also said that she hoped to get her secretary back soon."  
  
"You'll have to prise her away from Aragorn," said Greenleaf, grinning.  
  
"I did realise that would be the case," said Elrond stiffly. "With you, however, there is no such complication."  
  
"Not of that nature, thank goodness." Greenleaf offered a sardonic smile. "Only the slight complication of someone trying to kill me. That's the reason why we're back early."  
  
"What happened?" asked Elrond, suddenly more attentive.  
  
Greenleaf told him, omitting only the bit where the man had grabbed him. It wasn't quite dignified. Elrond sat back in his chair, his expression serious as he listened. When Greenleaf finished his tale the Elf Lord looked at him searchingly, frowning.  
  
"Do you have the note?" he asked.  
  
Greenleaf handed it over for examination. Elrond read it through, his mouth drawn in a tight line. He turned it over in his hands before returning his gaze to Greenleaf.  
  
"It may be possible," he said, "to trace the writer of this note by their writing."  
  
"That's what I thought," said Greenleaf, "I'm fairly certain they must be one of the guests here."  
  
Elrond smiled. "Then you may be in luck. Each guest has to sign in when they arrive. I'll have the book sent up to your room, and you can go through it and compare the writing with the note."  
  
He handed the paper back to Greenleaf, who took it and tucked it in his tunic. Elrond looked at him carefully.  
  
"Are you all right?" he asked.  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
"Are you all right?" Elrond repeated his question. "Legolas, someone just tried to kill you. Aren't you at least a bit disturbed?"  
  
"Why should I be?" asked Greenleaf.  
  
Elrond was a little taken aback. "Surely such an incident would worry you? Other people find such a brush with death to be, at the least, a different experience."  
  
Greenleaf smiled cheerfully. "I intend to ensure that it doesn't happen again," he said, "I don't have time to get 'disturbed'. Besides," and here his eyes glinted, "I feel more alive now than I have for weeks."  
  
::::::::::::::::::: 


	5. Pawns And Players

Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in 

**The Span of Solace**

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**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction, therefore it never actually happened. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.

**Author's Notes: **Well, I'm back. I had a fabulous time on orchestra. Estonia's a lovely place, go visit it. Not much writing done unfortunately, been a bit busy, but I'm doing my best. One more chapter after this.

**Review replies:** Idlewild: hmm, yes, creative juices applying to writing daft words for songs and plaiting boys' hair. Not much actual writing. Too much distraction. And for shame; actually wanting poor little Greenleaf to be nearly killed? I can't think why anyone would think like that ... hmm, I wrote this story, didn't I?

Nemo Returning: I suppose, thinking back, I probably should have killed the man off. But I'm too nice! (honest) I was just thinking that leaving a dead body in the woods would be a bit ... odd. Sounds more like a plot for Midsomer Murders, actually. There's always a body in the woods, but I digress. Ah well. That's how it was done.

theinklesspen: what makes you think I would poison the food? (please note the sarcasm there) I promise you: no poisoned food. There are other things to poison...

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Chapter 5. Pawns and Players

Before Greenleaf went up to his room, he decided to go and find Elliane. He wondered what she must be thinking after the attack in the woods and whether she would be blaming him. It wasn't as if it was his fault, after all. It was the fault of whoever was trying to kill him. He hadn't wanted to get her involved; she was just an innocent bystander. Admittedly, he had involved her, asking her about the other guests, but she had been quite happy to be involved. And she was hardly and innocent, he consoled himself.

He found her standing on the white bridge that spanned the waterfall. It was cool on the structure, as breezes were sent flying up by the tumbling waters. A rainbow hovered in the air, caught on the spray beneath their feet. Greenleaf walked along the bridge, feet making hardly any sound. Elliane turned as he approached.

"Legolas!" she exclaimed. "You're safe! Gimli said you would be but I'm so glad to see you."

"I'm glad to see you got back safely," said Greenleaf gallantly.

"Your Dwarf was an excellent escort."

"I'm sure," said Greenleaf wryly, noting the phrase 'your Dwarf'.

"Who was shooting at us?" she asked breathlessly.

Greenleaf had already thought up his story beforehand. "A hunter," he replied (that was the only true part), "out hunting deer. He got rather lost in the woods here, didn't mean to come here at all in fact. We showed him his way out."

"When you ran off clutching those fearsome weapons I was terrified! I was sure there was some murderer out there!"

"Well, we were ready for the worst. Luckily, it didn't happen."

"I'm glad of that!" Elliane smiled. "But, if I may ask, why did Gimli have his axe in the picnic hamper?"

It was Greenleaf's turn to smile. "That's just Gimli's way," he said, leaning on the rail of the bridge. "He can't bear to be parted from it, really he can't."

"I always thought Dwarves were quite odd," said Elliane delicately, "I always thought there was some form of ongoing argument between Elves and Dwarves."

"Oh, there is," replied Greenleaf, "always has been. I've despised them all my life then when I actually meet one of the little bug- blighters we get on quite well."

"Where did you meet him?" she asked.

"Out on my travels," said Greenleaf vaguely.

"Quite the international man of mystery," she commented.

"Elf," he reminded her.

"And is it true what they say about them?"

"About whom?"

She blushed slightly. "Dwarves. About, you know, them."

Greenleaf feigned ignorance. "I don't understand."

"Well, are they, ah, as well-endowed as they're rumoured to be?"

"Oh, I see," said Greenleaf, "I believe so. They tend to collect a lot of gold so they're generally quite well off."

"That's not quite what –oh, never mind." Elliane placed a hand on Greenleaf's shoulder. "It is very beautiful here, isn't it?"

"Indeed," he said, wondering at this sudden change in conversation.

"I suppose it is only fitting," she went on, leaning against him, " a beautiful place for beautiful people."

"I prefer Mirkwood," said Greenleaf, "it's less flashy."

"But just as fair, if you are a representative." She was by now practically draped over him."

"I'm biased," he said, wishing she wasn't quite so close. It was overpowering.

"I've often wondered," she whispered in his ear, "what Elves would be like as lovers."

Greenleaf thought fast. It was one of his talents. "Infrequent," he answered, with absolutely no compunction about slandering his race if it meant getting her off him. "After all, when you live that long why waste the time in bed?"

"How infrequent?" she asked.

"Very," he assured her," and quick."

"Oh," she said, sounding less keen.

"And it's not really my style," he said, trying to put her off further. It seemed to work.

"I did hear the rumours about your Dwarf," she began, moving away from him a little.

"What rumours?" asked Greenleaf innocently.

"Oh, look, there he is now," she said, pointing to the short figure just passing the end of the bridge on his was up to the halls.

"That's good," said Greenleaf, "I need to have a word with him about...something. By your leave, milady." He bowed elegantly and ran off along the bridge. Elliane stared after him then sighed.

"Well, damn," she muttered.

Greenleaf easily caught Gimli up, tapping the Dwarf on the head as he did.

"Are you busy?" he asked.

"Not particularly," replied Gimli. "Why?"

"Do you want to come and compare some handwriting with me?"

"Ah, why not? Can we get some drink in too?"

"I don't see why not."

They walked together up the path. Elliane, standing on the bridge, watched them go and sighed a little. That was it then. The Elf wasn't going to be hers, more was the pity. No use crying over spilt milk though. There were plenty more fish in the seas. Thus, thinking in these clichés, she left the bridge in search of a new man.

Greenleaf explained the situations to Gimli as they went through the corridors. The Dwarf was a little sceptical of the idea, but decided to go along with it. They were just approaching Greenleaf's room when an Elf came the other way, carrying the visitors' book. He handed it to Greenleaf.

"Would you like any refreshments?" he asked.

"Some wine for me," replied Greenleaf, "the usual, thank you."

"I'll have a beer," said Gimli," none of that fancy wine for me."

"I'll bring it directly," said the Elf, and walked off.

"I'll get you to like it someday," said Greenleaf, opening his door, "just you wait."

"When you start drinking beer," promised Gimli, following him in.

"Some hope of that," answered Greenleaf. He pushed the door shut behind them and laid the book on a small table. He dragged a chair over beside it as Gimli did the same. They sat down gladly. Greenleaf pulled the note out of his tunic, smoothed it out a little and passed it over for Gimli to look at. The Dwarf examined the paper, scowling.

"Quite to the point," he commented," nothing said that wasn't needed. No signature though."

"Grant the writer a little more intelligence than that."

"No clues from the wording then," continued Gimli, "but you reckon on finding something in the actual writing?"

"Perhaps," said Greenleaf, "we shall have to see."

He reached over for the visitors' book but paused when there was a knock on the door. He called them to enter. It was the Elf with their drinks. He set the tray on the table beside the book with a smile.

"I'll see that you're not disturbed," he said as he left.

"Thank you," called Greenleaf, just before the door shut. He picked up the book and opened it.

The pages were filled with many different names, dated back over many years. Greenleaf flicked through until he got to the current guests. One or two scrawls caught his eye. He was amused to see "Elliane of Brising" elegantly scribed in large, curling letters. None of the signatures particularly resembled the writing on the note. This could be a long process.

"Let's have a look," said Gimli, leaning over. "Blimey, there's quite a range of people staying here."

"And quite a range of suspects," said Greenleaf. "Staying at the moment we've got Elliane, of course; Lady Compton, who I haven't met face to face; Rose Khelek, don't know much about her; Lord Ernest Bloaf, he's part Easterling; Frank Scarmang, he looked a bit annoyed about losing at poker; not to mention sundry others."

His hand went to pick up his wine glass but changed direction halfway there and lifted the note from the table instead. He fiddled with it between his fingers, scrutinising each detail of the writing in search of some form of clue. It seemed a fairly masculine hand, though that could have been the effect of being all in capital letters. Determination was quite obvious in the strong pen strokes. Greenleaf sniffed it, but all he could smell was the hunter they had taken it off. He glanced again at the book on his lap.

"I think we can discount at least two of the women," he said, "Elliane and Lady Compton. The writing's just too different, look." He held up the book.

Gimli took a long look. "You're right. They couldn't have changed their hand that easily. But as to the rest –I suppose the thing to do is compare the capital letters."

Greenleaf smiled sweetly. "Believe it or not, that idea had occurred to me."

"Just wanted to be certain," replied Gimli, "I wasn't sure if you'd be thinking completely straight."

"I'm fine." Greenleaf balanced the book on his knees and reached over to pick up his glass. He rolled the stem between his fingers reflectively, staring down at the pages. Something caught his eye and he bent his head to examine it. His hair fell forward and he pushed it back irritably. "Now that looks similar," he began. He took a sip of his wine.

"What does?" asked Gimli.

"The 'R' here," said Greenleaf. He paused suddenly. "This wine tastes odd."

"Odd? How is it odd?"

Greenleaf stood, a little unsteadily. The book fell from his lap, crashing to the floor with a thud and a scraping of folding paper. "Odd," he managed to say. Through the fog setting in through his brain he put the glass on the table, his hand shaking as he did.

"Legolas? Are you all right?" asked Gimli. He stood up. "Legolas?"

"Don't think so..."

Greenleaf fell backwards, landing more by luck than judgement back in his chair. His arms fell limply to the sides, dangling over the chair arms. His head slumped onto his chest. Gimli rushed over and grabbed the Elf's shoulders, shaking him.

"Legolas! Wake up! Come on, Elf, answer me!" He took Greenleaf's face between his hands.

There was no response from the Elf. Gimli cursed and ran to the door. He opened it, but there was no one outside. With a quick, worried glance back at the recumbent figure sprawled on the chair, he hurried out of the room. Aragorn's room was just down the corridor and it was there that Gimli headed, running fast. He rapped on the door loudly and stood there, waiting, twitching from foot to foot. He knocked again, but no one was in. Cursing again, Gimli ran on down the corridor, only to then run slap bang into the man.

"Where's the fire?" asked Aragorn, looking surprised.

"Legolas collapsed," Gimli tried to explain, attempting to catch his breath, "he just said –whew- said that his wine tasted odd and then he just collapsed. I couldn't wake him."

Aragorn's expression became serious. "In his room?" Gimli nodded. "Come on then."

They both headed back down the corridor, neither saying a word. Aragorn uttered a short cry on seeing the still body in the chair, but quickly became calm and professional again. He lifted Greenleaf's chin and raised one eyelid to look into his eye. He frowned darkly.

"Go and fetch Lord Elrond," he ordered, turning to Gimli, "he should be in his study."

Gimli left without a word. Aragorn slid one arm under Greenleaf's knees and another behind his back. He lifted him and carried the limp form to the bed. He laid Greenleaf down, arranging the Elf's limbs straight. He touched Greenleaf's forehead; it was hot but not alarmingly so. The Elf's breathing was slow but strong, like his pulse.

The door swung open and Lord Elrond marched in, trailed by Gimli. He went immediately to the bedside.

"How is he?" he asked curtly.

"Not too bad," answered Aragorn, "it doesn't seem to be life-threatening."

"He only had a sip," put in Gimli, "hardly any really. He noticed something wrong straightaway."

"Then let's hope it wasn't enough to kill him," said Elrond. He gave the unconscious Greenleaf a quick examination, loosening the ties at the neck of the Elf's tunic to make sure his breathing was easy. "I want to test the wine," he went on, "but I think he'll be fine. The dose was sufficiently small to not kill him. I will be back shortly."

He swept out of the door, taking the wineglass with him. Aragorn sighed and sat on the bed beside Greenleaf. He glanced down at the Elf, worry in his face.

"That's the second time today," he said quietly, "someone's really got it in for him."

"You know what he'd say to that," said Gimli. "Hazards of the job."

"Yes, but this is a bit personal, isn't it? It's not as if they're just stopping him sticking his nose in somewhere. It's just someone trying to kill him, with no obvious reason."

Gimli didn't say anything. He fidgeted with his beard.

"And he's been lucky so far," Aragorn continued, "in escaping death. I mean, if he'd drunk more of that wine, or not heard that arrow."

"He'd be the first to say it was skill, not luck. And don't mope, he's still alive, you know."

Aragorn laughed. "I can see why you two get on so well. No nonsense at all."

"Don't know what you're talking about," muttered Gimli. He went over to the table and bent to pick up the book that lay on the ground. He looked at the page as he straightened the folded corner. "Now, what was it he noticed?" he asked, half to himself.

"What was that?" Aragorn looked over from checking Greenleaf's temperature.

"He was saying something about an 'r' matching," answered Gimli, "but I don't know which."

"Let's see," said Aragorn, "may be we can..."

He was interrupted by Lord Elrond entering the room, carrying an empty bucket. He set it by the bed, giving Greenleaf a cursory glance. He was apparently satisfied.

"It's quite a common poison," he said, "but it would have killed him if he had drunk anymore. As it is, he should wake up soon with few ill effects, and only short term ones at that."

"Then what's the bucket for?" asked Gimli.

"You'll see," answered Elrond, "just wait until he wakes up."

As if on cue, Greenleaf began to stir, twitching a little. His face contorted and his eyes suddenly snapped open. The urge to vomit was strong and he retched painfully. Then Elrond's cool hands were guiding him over the bucket and holding his hair back as he emptied his stomach in a series of heaves that left him gasping. At last it ended and he sat up, panting and hating the sour taste in his mouth.

"How do you feel?" asked Elrond, still holding Greenleaf as if afraid he would fall.

His answer from Greenleaf was a sardonic eyebrow raise.

"I see," said Elrond. "Aragorn, a glass of water please." He laid a hand against Greenleaf's forehead. "Hmm."

Aragorn pushed a cold glass of water into Greenleaf's hands. The Elf drank it gratefully, draining it in seconds.

"Take it easy," admonished Elrond, "you had a lucky escape."

Greenleaf waved off Elrond's rather mothering hands. "I'm all right now," he insisted.

"You should rest for the remainder of the afternoon," said Elrond, equally insistent.

"I've got a poisoner to catch, haven't I?" said Greenleaf.

"You can do it from your bed for now," said Elrond sternly. "Where were you planning to start?"

"Talking to the Elf who got the drinks," said Greenleaf, "Lindir, I think his name is."

"I'll send him up," said Elrond, "you stay there." He went out of the room.

Greenleaf immediately stood and made his way, albeit erratically, across the floor. He dropped into a chair, and then looked up to see Aragorn and Gimli's disapproving glares.

"Leave it out," he said, "at least I'm sitting down. I'm just not lying on my bed all afternoon."

"You don't look too well," said Aragorn, "you're far too pale."

"That's not my fault! I didn't ask to be poisoned, you know."

"I'm not blaming you. I'm just concerned."

Greenleaf sighed. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just a bit irritated, that's all."

"That's not surprising," said Gimli. "This person's moved fast. You haven't been back long."

"They were probably waiting to see if you'd return," said Aragorn.

Greenleaf frowned, thinking. "There can't be many people who had the opportunity to poison my drink. Only..." he broke off as there was a knock on the door. "Enter."

The door opened and Lindir came in, looking rather nervous.

"Do sit down," said Greenleaf, indicating the empty chair, "I won't bite."

Lindir sat, glancing around as he did. Gimli stood behind Greenleaf's chair, and Aragorn had seated himself on the edge of the bed. Greenleaf sat in his chair, leaning heavily against the back and trying to pretend he wasn't.

"Lord Elrond told me about the poison," said Lindir worriedly. "I'm so sorry! I don't know what happened. I promise you it wasn't me."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Greenleaf. "Do you have any idea when anyone could have done it? Any idea at all?" He blinked, trying to will away the ache in his head.

"Well," said Lindir slowly, "I stopped for a moment on the way to your room. One of the smaller statues had fallen to the floor and I placed the tray on the balcony rail to pick it up. It didn't take me long but I had my back to your drinks while I did it. That could have given someone the opportunity, I suppose."

"The statue could have been pushed over on purpose," Gimli pointed out.

"I thought I might have heard something," admitted Lindir, "but it wasn't very loud."

"Was the statue damaged in any way?" asked Greenleaf.

Lindir looked puzzled. "No, it wasn't. That's odd, isn't it? I hadn't though about it."

"Why would that be important?" asked Aragorn, crossing one leg over his knee.

"Whoever did it didn't want to attract attention," explained Greenleaf, "but they did want to stop Lindir for a short while. It doesn't take long to slip something into a drink."

"I didn't see anyone," said Lindir, "but I wasn't paying much attention." He looked faintly bashful. "I was thinking of a new song. Is that all you need me for?"

"Yes, thank you. And it's not your fault."

"Thank you." Lindir stood and went out of the door. The three watched him go then turned to look at each other.

"Does that count anyone out?" asked Gimli.

"Not really," answered Greenleaf, "the corridors and balconies round there are open to anyone. There're plenty of alcoves to hide in as well."

"So we aren't any nearer then," said Aragorn, sighing, "it would have been nice to have got something out of this."

"Apart from a headache," added Greenleaf.

"You've got a headache?" asked Aragorn, his face suddenly full of worry.

"It's nothing," said Greenleaf, "sit down. It's only a slight pain."

"Legolas," said Gimli, remembering something, "what was it that you noticed just before you collapsed? You said something about an 'r' looking similar."

"Did I?" Greenleaf frowned, rubbing the side of his head. He took the visitors' book from Gimli and flicked through it. "Oh yes. This one here. The 'R looks like it matches, as does this 'K', and the 'o' looks about right."

"So you think you know who it is?" asked Aragorn. He sat forwards, eager to know.

"I believe so," replied Greenleaf, "though I need to make sure. They'll probably be at the gambling halls tonight, so I intend to check their room through. I'll need you to keep watch."

"Who is it?" asked Gimli impatiently.

"I'll tell you later," said Greenleaf, "I don't want to close your minds to other opportunities if I'm wrong."

Gimli made an irritated noise, clearly not happy with the answer. Aragorn stood and went over to Greenleaf, pressing the back of his hand to the Elf's cheek. Greenleaf flapped at him in an annoyed fashion.

"Will you stop that?" he protested.

Aragorn gave him a stern look. "As you're not doing anything until this evening, you can rest for the afternoon. And," he held up a finger as Greenleaf opened his mouth, "no arguments. You aren't going anywhere, partly in an effort to prevent anyone killing you. Gimli and I will remain here."

"I am not a child!" argued Greenleaf. "I do not need you to protect me. I am no coward to hide away in my room!" He stood angrily and made to leave the room, still somewhat unsteady.

Gimli and Aragorn exchanged a glance, and then both moved together. They lunged at Greenleaf. Gimli, going for the knees, brought the Elf to the floor cursing. Aragorn seized Greenleaf with some difficulty and hoisted him onto his shoulder. He half threw the Elf onto the bed and knelt beside him, pinning his arms down. Gimli, with apparent enjoyment, sat on Greenleaf's legs. Greenleaf scowled ferociously at Aragorn, who looked back impassively.

"Get off me," ordered Greenleaf, fighting their hold.

"Do you want us to tie you down?" asked Aragorn calmly. "Because we will."

Greenleaf looked up at him. The man was completely serious. Greenleaf rolled his eyes and gave up.

"There's a good Elf," said Aragorn, standing up straight. He patted Greenleaf on the head playfully, pulling his hand back quickly as Greenleaf pretended to snap at it.

"You're too much like Lord Elrond sometimes," grumbled Greenleaf, "far too much. Gimli, kindly get off my legs."

Gimli did so, grinning as he did. He went over and settled himself in one of the chairs. He reached for his beer, but stopped short of actually picking it up.

"It's probably not poisoned," said Greenleaf from the bed, "it's not you they're after."

"Still," said Gimli, "I'd rather be careful." He slid off the chair and headed for the door. "I'll get another. Do you want one, Aragorn?"

"That'd be good."

Gimli left the room. Greenleaf shifted, rubbing his shins with a reproachful look at Aragorn.

"You didn't have to be quite so violent," he said accusingly.

"It was necessary," replied Aragorn, "you wouldn't have listened otherwise. Sometimes I think force is the only thing you do understand."

Greenleaf said nothing, picking at the threads of his tunic.

Aragorn grinned. "Now I know you're tired. You didn't have an answer for that." He pushed Greenleaf to lie back on the bed. "Get some sleep. That's an order."

Greenleaf wanted protest, but he was very tired and the bed was very soft. He was dimly aware of Gimli returning but after that he was asleep, eyes closed.

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	6. Poisoner Unmasked

Legolas Greenleaf, Agent of MESS, in 

**The Span of Solace**

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**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fanfiction, therefore it never actually happened. Legolas and associated characters were created by JRR Tolkien. James Bond was created by Ian Fleming. Legolas' appearance belongs to Orlando Bloom in a wig.

**Author's Notes: **Well, the last chapter. What more can I say? More notes at the bottom.

**Review replies:** Nemo Returning: Of course I've known all along. How else would I write the whole story?

theinklesspen: Clever, clever. You've spotted my little clues there. Also, that's a little in-joke for the _Rocky Horror Show_. From 'Science Fiction, Double Feature', the line "by R.K.O." turns up, referring to the writer, Richard O'Brien (an absolute legend!).

Idlewild: I have to say, I like writing dialogue between friends, so writing Greenleaf exactly as a lone wolf Bond wouldn't have quite the same attraction. I'm probably far too verbose anyway, so writing (and having) long phatic (look, I studied English! Phatic means between friends) conversations is just something I do. Say hi to Shelob for me!

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Chapter 6. Poisoner Unmasked

The room Greenleaf stood in was very neat. Nothing was left out of place; everything was exactly where it was meant to be. It was tidy to the point of obsessiveness. It was almost as if the room had no occupant, save for the travel bags and trunk laid carefully in one corner. Greenleaf began his search at the bedside cabinet, checking everything meticulously.

There was very little in the drawers. A book of Elven history, a few cosmetics, a pen and some paper. Greenleaf examined each, particularly the nib of the pen. It could have been used in the writing of the note, he decided. He laid each item back where he found it. On top of the cabinet there was only a candle, mostly burnt down. The bed was made, the sheets folded back. Greenleaf went to the wardrobe and opened the door. The sight was hardly inspiring. Each garment looked much like the one next to it, with only a small range of colours. He pushed through them, but found nothing of interest. The drawers were similarly devoid of anything useful to Greenleaf. He fished gingerly among large undergarments but found nothing.

Next he went to the travel trunk. It was a small squat affair, quite plain and undecorated. He pulled at the lid but it was obviously locked. Greenleaf knelt before it, pulling a small lockpick from his tunic and setting to work on the lock. What he didn't know was that the trunk had been specially designed to prevent any intruders. But combined with his persistence was wariness, and Greenleaf expected something. The lock clicked as he finally opened it, and something else did too.

Greenleaf jerked back as a blade shot out about four inches from the wooden trunk. It was about level with his chest and would have stabbed him if he had not been so quick. He eyed it warily before pushing up the lid of the trunk with extreme caution. Inside it seemed to be simply more clothes, all neatly folded. Greenleaf carefully lifted the folded garments and laid them beside him on the floor. As he'd suspected, the clothes did not fill the entire trunk. There was a wooden partition that was higher than the bottom of the trunk should have been. There were two small grooves, one on either side, presumably to lift it out. Greenleaf paused, but figured that they wouldn't be booby-trapped, as the owner would have to lift it too.

He pulled the partition up gingerly. It was a fully separate box, with its own lock. Very carefully, he picked the lock, staying as far back as he could. The lock clicked open. Greenleaf pulled out his knife and, kneeling some distance away and stretching out his arm, pushed the lid up with the blade. Another blade slid upwards from inside the box, just where someone's hands would probably have been if they'd been holding it. Greenleaf smirked; it was something of a one trick pony. But then he noticed the bluish tinge to the metal. That meant poison. Greenleaf avoided it as he looked inside. When he saw its contents his lips curled into a triumphant grin.

Two small bottles sat on one side, both filled with liquid. Greenleaf picked one up, unscrewed the lid and sniffed it delicately. It brought tears to his eyes that he blinked rapidly away. It was poison. Also in the box were two glass containers with small holes in the lids. One was empty, but the other held a spider similar to that which had been in Greenleaf's bed. This was proof indeed.

Smiling, Greenleaf replaced almost everything as he had found it, sliding the concealed blades back into their spring-loaded holes. He stood and went out of the door. Aragorn was just running along the corridor towards him. He came to a halt just before Greenleaf and questioned with a look the Elf's happy face. Greenleaf simply nodded.

"That's good," said Aragorn. "Your mark is on their way."

"Fine," said Greenleaf. "Go and fetch Elladan and Elrohir, and you might want to let Lord Elrond know. You should be able to hear from here, just outside the door. I'll talk to her and get her to confess."

"Got it." Aragorn raced off along the corridor.

Greenleaf stepped back into the room, shutting the door behind him. So this was it, the final showdown. He had a thrill of anticipation at this. The case was nearly over; the culprit was drawing closer to the net. And Greenleaf was glad. He didn't particularly like it when people tried to kill him by underhand methods. It wasn't really sporting. There was one thing he wanted to set up before they got there, and he did it. Footsteps were heard in the corridor outside.

He stepped carefully behind the door as it opened. The poisoner stepped through. Short, squat and ugly, she looked like she could slip poison into something and not give it a second thought. Greenleaf looked her over critically. She really was quite unprepossessing in appearance. Solid calves protruded from under the hem of her dress, ending in square-toed shoes. Her bust resembled nothing short of a badly-packed sandbag, crammed into the dress inexpertly. Her hair was red and scraped back viciously into a bun.

She strode across the room to her trunk, and was about to open it when she noticed something. Greenleaf didn't know what she'd noticed, but it was enough that she had. He stepped forward as she turned around.

"Rose Khelek?" he said, smiling charmingly.

"That is me," she replied politely, hiding her surprise. "To what do I owe the honour?"

"I wished to speak with you," answered Greenleaf. He would have to watch carefully to see how this panned out and how he should take it on. She wasn't going to admit anything readily.

"Oh," she said. "What about? Nothing bad has happened, has it?"

"No, no," Greenleaf lied glibly, "well, that is to say, yes, in a way. There's been a spider found in one of the rooms, and Lord Elrond was concerned that there could be more in other rooms. We've been sent to check."

"Just an ordinary spider?" she asked. "Surely that wouldn't warrant such a serious reaction?"

Greenleaf reflected for a moment on her voice. It was unpleasant, though she probably intended it to sound charming or sweet. There was a slight whining quality that she couldn't quite banish, and it grated a little on the ears. He wondered how she saw herself when she looked in the mirror. Did she see herself as others did –plain to the point of ugliness? Or did her eyes give her another story –that of a flame-haired beauty cruelly ignored? Greenleaf didn't expect it would be the latter, though he wasn't sure it would be completely the former.

Flashing his most charming smile, he gave an answer to her question. "Unfortunately it wasn't a common spider, but rather a foreign one. Poisonous too, I'm afraid. Lord Elrond thinks that it's probably an isolated incident, but better safe than sorry, eh?" He went over to the curtains and made a show of checking behind them."

Rose Khelek stood where she was in the centre of the room, feet planted squarely apart. She didn't seem overly alarmed at the news about the spider, not that he'd expected her to be. But she had made an attempt at surprise, a pretence at least. That could mean that she didn't think he'd worked it out. She would.

"It would be helpful," suggested Greenleaf, "if you were to check among your belongings. I would do it, but obviously they're your personal possessions."

"Of course." Rose Khelek opened her wardrobe and pushed half-heartedly through her dresses. Greenleaf, checking behind the chest of drawers, could see out of the corner of his eye that she wasn't really trying. But of course she wasn't; she knew that the other spider was safely in the bottom of her trunk. Or so she thought anyway.

"You probably want to check inside your shoes," Greenleaf hinted, "spiders like dark little spaces they can curl up in."

He watched carefully and surreptitiously as she lifted each shoe and tipped it without enthusiasm. He waited. Then a small furry body slid out and landed by her foot. She looked at it, eyes narrowing in thought before pretending to jump and cry out in surprise. Greenleaf glanced across, his shock as feigned as hers. They both stared at the creature.

"It isn't moving," Greenleaf pointed out, his eyes moving to watch her expression.

She poked it with the toe of her shoe. "It's dead." Cold and detached.

"Probably a good idea to check elsewhere, just to be sure." His voice contained nothing but concern. He had planted the dead spider there purposefully to gauge her reaction.

"You think there may be another?" she asked, not bothering to keep disbelief from her voice.

"Like I said, better to be safe than sorry." He gave her a smile, completely free of charge. "Why don't you have a check of your trunk?" It was a suggestion, not an order, but not one she could easily refuse without drawing suspicion.

She inserted a key into the keyhole and turned it, unlocking the trunk. No blade shot out to greet her. She lifted the lid, not expecting to find anything. She was wrong.

Sitting on top of the neatly folded clothes, just where Greenleaf had left it, was the glass box he had found in the bottom of the trunk. The spider inside froze at the sudden light. Greenleaf heard Rose Khelek's sudden surprised intake of breath. She hadn't been expecting that. But her shock didn't last long, and Greenleaf saw her body tense. She knew she hadn't left it on top.

"How did that get there?" asked Greenleaf, innocently enough.

She turned, still kneeling on the floor, and he saw that she knew that he knew. She was scowling.

"Was it a pet of yours?" he asked. "I suppose that one," he pointed at the dead spider on the floor," escaped, did it? It got rather a long way, I have to say."

She glared at him, her hands still in her trunk. They pushed through the clothes.

"And I found your little bottles of poison as well," continued Greenleaf. "You really ought to get better tasting ones. Have a little consideration for your victims."

"You don't deserve it!" she spat. "Filthy pig!"

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere," said Greenleaf, "even if it is insults. Why don't I deserve consideration?"

She said nothing. Her lip curled angrily.

Greenleaf smiled sardonically. "Well, let's start with an easier one. Why do you want to kill me?"

Still no answer. Outside, a bird sang a brief burst of song before flying off.

"Come on now, you can't pretend that you're innocent. We both know what's been going on. I want to know why."

"I have my reasons," she said coldly. "You deserve everything you get for what you did!"

"And what was that?"

She was silent again.

Greenleaf decided to try a new tack. "When were you planning on using the second spider? It's quite an original method of murder, by the way. What would have happened if it had bitten me?"

"You'd have died in fearful agony," she hissed, "writhing and screaming."

"I see. Not just agony but fearful agony. You must really hate me for that."

"I do," she said. She didn't expand on the point.

"And then there was the hiring of that hunter. That didn't work out either, did it?"

"Men are fools."

"I'm almost inclined to agree there." Greenleaf smirked. "But anyway, then it was the poison in the wine. You really are determined, aren't you?"

"I am." She whirled round, sprang to her feet and rushed at him. In her hand she held a stiletto dagger.

Greenleaf stepped aside and caught her wrist, holding the dagger away. She was a strong woman, and he knew instinctively that her stocky shape was nothing to do with flab. They struggled, and he was surprised at how much of a challenge she was. She had obviously been trained to fight, but by whom Greenleaf didn't know. Her elbow jammed into his stomach and he retaliated by swinging her out away from him, still holding her dagger hand. She tried to kick him, but he was too quick and her legs too short. He pressed his fingers into her wrist. The stiletto dropped from her fingers. Greenleaf kicked it into the corner.

"And that's enough from you," he said, still gripping her wrist.

The door opened. Aragorn entered, followed by the twins, Gimli, and Lord Elrond, all in a little row. Greenleaf grinned at them.

"One poisoner," he said cheerfully, indicating his captive.

"Well done," said Lord Elrond, with a dry smile, "I'm sure you will sleep easier in your bed now."

Elladan and Elrohir came up behind Rose Khelek to take hold of her. As Greenleaf released her wrist she pretended to rub it, while she actually twisted the stone on one of her rings, unnoticed by the Elves. A tiny spike slid out, its end tinted a dirty blue. As soon as her hand was free she raised it and slapped Greenleaf squarely on the left cheek. He staggered a little from the force of the blow but stood straight as Elladan grabbed the woman's hand. The little spike of dirty metal had retreated again, undetected.

Greenleaf regarded her coldly. "Take her away," he sighed.

The twins did so, pulling the now unresisting woman from the room. Greenleaf lifted his hand to touch his cheek, noticing as he did that it seemed an awfully long distance.

"Well, you got her," said Aragorn, "long before any of us worked it out."

Greenleaf smiled, though it suddenly became a great task to do so. He half-closed his eyes in an effort to concentrate on the others in the room, though he fought a battle not to close them entirely. His breathing didn't seem quite right; it was shallow and erratic. An army of ants was marching across his skin, each one ice cold.

"And you were right," said Gimli cheerfully," it was a woman after all."

Desperately, Greenleaf focussed on the Dwarf. "Aren't I always..." he managed to say.

Then dizziness overtook him and pulled him forwards. His arms would obey his commands as he fell, inexorably, towards the wine-red rug on the floor. He was vaguely aware of the other three rushing towards him as he hit the floor. Then there was only blessed darkness.

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Sitting in a chair in the healing wing, Gimli fidgeted. Aragorn stood beside him, equally distracted. Elladan and Elrohir stood a little way away, both silent. A closed door, blank and impersonal, was a frustrating companion. Outside it was growing dark and stars were pinpricked one by one across the sky. Lamps gave the room a soft glow.

Finally, the door opened. Lord Elrond, looking weary, beckoned the odd little group in. Gimli pushed his way in first, going straight to the side of the bed.

Greenleaf lay there, calm and still with his eyes closed. His skin was pale enough to be white while his lips had an unhealthy blue tinge. Aragorn studied the motionless Elf for a moment before turning to Lord Elrond. The question was in his eyes, and everyone else's minds.

"He's alive," said Elrond, "if barely."

"Thank Mahal," muttered Gimli, touching Greenleaf's hand.

"But we don't know if his condition will improve," continued Elrond, "we've done our best, but that was rather a vicious poison."

"You mean he might die?" asked Elrohir.

Elrond rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. "It's a possibility," he admitted, "but we should try to think positively."

"But what if he never wakes up?" asked Elladan.

"Never say never," said Elrond. He placed a comforting arm around each of his son's shoulders.

Greenleaf lay unconscious on the bed, almost dead to all appearances. But beneath the cold skin blood still pumped and breath still blew in and out of the lungs.

Never say never indeed.

The End.

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Notes: Well, that wasn't quite as bad an ending as in 'From Russia, With Love', was it? It could have been worse.

Rose Khelek is, obviously, a version of Rosa Klebb, my favourite Bond villain. You've got to love someone whose bosom is a "badly-packed sandbag" (yes, I stole that quote from Fleming). In a way, dear Umbridge from Harry Potter reminds me of her.

That is, quite definitely, the end of this fic. But, fear not, campers, there is a sequel in production. Yes, another one. It won't be up for quite a while –due to other commitments (I've finally got a job –in MacDonald's!), the fact that it's going to be pretty epic, computer access etc- but I promise you it will get there. Probably not for a few months though. I'll be off to uni soon (hopefully) so we shall have to see. And even if I can't get to a computer to type it up very quickly, I will keep writing in the old-fashioned way, with ink pen and paper. And I'm going to be dividing my time between Greenleaf and a certain Harry Potter fic that I've been neglecting (Am I getting those bits back anytime, Lana?).

As it's not going to be up for quite some time, here's an offer. If you wish to be notified as to when the fic will be up and don't have me on author alert, leave me a note in a review along with your email address. I'll make a list and send an email round when it's up. Can't say fairer than that, can I?

Brief teaser: the title is "The City of the King". That's all you're getting until closer to the time.

So, until then, this is the Rabbit of Iron signing off. Love you all.


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